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POEMS, 



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FRANCES S.-OSGOOD. 



A cnreless enrol— idly, lightly sung. 
Perhaps not worth the singing or repeating ; — 

But would you check a woman's pen or tongue?— 
Ah ! teach her first— to keep her heart from beating ! 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY CLARK, AUSTIN <fe CO, 

205 BROADWAY. 
1850. 



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1 ;. # it«'n«^#««* 

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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1845, 

By CLARK & AUSTIN. 

In the Clerk's Office of tlie District Court for the Southern District 
of New York. 



Stereotyped by 

RICHARD C. VALENTINE, 

At Gold-streei, New York. 

THOS. J. STAFFORD, Printer, 
Ni^w Haven, Conn, 



^ 



9- 



WVWUCUWmAKt 

WAftiiii»#fWi;*&CL 






TO HER BEST FRIEND, 

ARE AFFECTIONATELY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED 
BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



CD 



, Cr t r: } 



-J^ 



PREFACE. 



The Author's chief fear, in collecting and 
publishing the following Poems, is that they 
may not be thought worthy the notice of 
that just and true criticism, whose praise 
and blame are alike valuable, and would by 
her be equally welcomed and appreciated. 



CONTEiNTS. 



Pag'e. 
The Spirit of Poetry '-^ 



The Lutin-Steed. 



To Sybil. 



The Heart's Answer. 



16 



„ on 

Love s Reply 

The Fan 



29 



A Flight of Fancy •'"^ 



3i) 



Love's Mistake ^^ 

To A Dear Little Truant 41 

Lulu ^^ 

A Reply to one who said, "Write from your 

Heart" 4" 

To My Mother '^^ 

The Broken Lyre "^^ 

Golden Rules in Rhyme ^0 

A Song ^^ 



CONTENTS. 



Pag-e 
The Spirit's Voyage 60 

A Remonstrance C4 

"Bois TON Sano. Beaumanoir" 66 

The Lily's Delusion 67 

The Fetter 'neath the Flowers 68 

To 69 

To Sarah, arranoing her Hair 71 

Venus and the Modern Belle 72 

The Flower and Brook 75 

The Star and the Flower, or the Two Pets 77 

To a Friend 79 

A Tribute of Gratitude 81 

Garden Gossip 83 

Doubtful Vows 85 

Earl Albert's Bird 87 

The Talisman 89 

"Love will not stay to be weighed" 94 

Ellen Ardelle 95 

Zuleika 97 

Love and Logic 99 

To Little May Vincent 101 

A Song 103 

" She loves Him yet" 105 



CONTENTS. 



The Lily's Reply 107 

" Happy at Home" 108 

Happiness Lost and Found Ill 

Keep, keep the Maiden's Dowry 115 

The Language of Gems 117 

The Lover's List 123 

The Birth of the Callitriche, or Water-Star 125 

A May-Day Song 129 

The Parting 130 

Aspirations 131 

A Song 133 

The "Fairer Flower" J34 

Lenore 136 

The Soul's Lament for Home 137 

The Flower and the Humming-Bird 138 

The Suitor's Reply to the Maiden who wished to 

RETURN HIS GiFT 140 

To 141 

Hymn 142 

To 144 

The World-worn Lyre 145 

A Song 147 

The Exile's Lament 149 



10 CONTENTS. 



Page. 

Leonor 151 

To Lizzie 153 

Victoria, on her way to Guildhall 155 

None are Poor 157 

Fazry 159 

May-Day in New England 160 

Virginia 164 

To Anna 167 

What I Love 168 

On a Landscape by Doughty 170 

Your Heart is a Music-Box, Dearest 173 

The Cherub's Secret 174 

Hymn to the Virgin 175 

The Dying Rose-Bud's Lament 176 

The Unexpected Declaration 178 

What can be the matter with Lizzie 181 

MiNA Dolce 183 

Lines suggested by a Mourning-Locket 184 

Why will a Rose-Bud Blow 186 

Fanny's Error 188 

New England's Mountain Child 188 

The Baby and the Breeze 190 

Lines 191 



CONTENTS. 11 



Pag-e. 

The Child Playing with a Watch li)4 

Why don't he Come 195 

On A Picture 197 

Ellen Learning to Walk 199 

On Parting for a time with an Infant's Portrait • • 201 

Lucy's Gem 202 

The Daisy's Mistake 208 

The Life-Voyage 212 

The Child and its Angel-Playmate 219 

ASoNO 223 

A Mother's Prayer in Illness 225 

To 227 

The Triumph of the Spiritual over the Sensual. • . 229 

Purity's Pearl ; or, the History of a Tear 234 

Lines from a School Girl to a New Friend 238 

Heaven is over all 241 

The Morning Walk, or the Stolen Blush 244 

The Half-Blown Rose 246 

The Hour before the Duel 248 

She says she loves me dearly 250 

The Hero's Grave 251 



® 



6^ 



POEMS. 



TO THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. 

Leave me not yet ! Leave me not cold and lonely, 

Thou dear Ideal of my pining heart ! 
Thou art the friend — the beautiful — the only, 

Whom I would keep, tho' all the world depart ! 
Thou, that dost veil the frailest flower with glory, 

Spirit of light and loveliness and truth ! 
Thou that didst tell me a sweet, fairy story, 

Of the dim future, in my wistful youth ! 
Thou, who canst weave a halo round the spirit, 

Thro' which naught mean or evil dare intrude, 
Resume not yet the gift, which I inherit 

From Heaven and thee, that dearest, holiest good ! 
Leave me not now ! Leave me not cold and lonely, 

Thou starry prophet of my pining heart ! 
Thou art the friend — the tenderest — the only, 

With whom, of all, 'twould be despair to part. 

2 



14 TO THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. 

Thou that cam'st to me in my dreaming childhood, 

Shaping the changeful clouds to pageants rare, 
Peopling the smiling vale, and shaded wildwood, 

With airy beings, faint yet strangely fair ; 
Telling me all the sea-born breeze was saying. 

While it went whispering thro' the willing leaves, 
Bidding me listen to the light rain playing 

Its pleasant tune, about the household eaves ; 
Tuning the low, sweet ripple of the river, 

Till its melodious murmur seem'd a song, 
A tender and sad chant, repeated ever, 

A sweet, impassioned plaint of love and wrong ! 
Leave me not yet ! Leave me not cold and lonely, 

Thou star of promise o'er my clouded path ! 
Leave not the life, that borrows from thee only 

All of delight and beauty that it hath ! 

Thou, that when others knew not how to love me, 

Nor cared to fathom half my yearning soul. 
Didst wreathe thy flowers of light, around, above me. 

To woo and win me from my griefs control. 
By all my dreams, the passionate, and holy. 

When thou hast sung love's lullaby to me. 
By all the childlike worship, fond and lowly. 

Which I have lavish'd upon thine and thee. 



TO THE SPIRIT OF POETRY. 15 

By all the lays my simple lute was learning, 

To echo from thy voice, stay with me still ! 
Once flown — alas ! for thee there's no returning ! 

The charm will die o'er valley, wood, and hill. 
Tell me not Time, whose wing my brow has shaded, 

Has wither'd spring's sweet bloom within my 
heart. 
Ah, no ! the rose of love is yet unfaded, 

Tho' hope and joy, its sister flowers, depart. 

Well do 1 know that I have wrong'd thine altar. 

With the light offerings of an idler's mind, 
And thus, with shame, my pleading prayer I falter, 

Leave me not, spirit ! deaf, and dumb, and blind ! 
Deaf to the mystic harmony of nature, 

Blind to the beauty of her stars and flowers 
Leave me not, heavenly yet human teacher, 

Lonely and lost in this cold world of ours ! 
Heaven knows I need thy music and thy beauty 

Still to beguile me on my weary way, 
To lighten to my soul the cares of duty, 

And bless with radiant dreams the darken'd 
day : 
To charm my wild heart in the worldly revel. 

Lest I, too, join the aimJ'ess, false, and vain ; 



IQ THE LUTIN-STEED. 



Let me not lower to the soulless level 
Of those whom now I pity and disdain ! 

Leave me not yet !— leave me not cold and pining, 
Thou bird of paradise, whose plumes of light, 

Where'er they rested, left a glory shining ; 
Fly not to heaven, or let me share thy flight ! 



THE LUTm-STEED. 

A FAIRY LEGEND. 



Old Margaret's wither'd features 

Gleam in the red firelight— 
" Now stay with me, my grandsons three 

Why wend ye forth to-night 1 

" The Mistral's mighty wing — 
Hark ! how it shakes the roof! 

This eve the fairy Sabbath is. 
And souls should keep aloof. 



THE LUTIN-STEED. 17 

" The Lutins are abroad, 

In thousand forms of might, 
To mock the feeble faith of man ; — 

Ye shall not forth to-night !" 

Out spake the eldest proudly, 

And toss'd his clustered curls, — 
" I go to meet my Jacqueline, 

My blue-eyed girl of girls !" 

Out spake the second loudly, 

" Nor Lutin, elf, or fay, 
Shall keep me from the beach to-night. 

Where foams the flashing spray !" 

*' And thou, my fair-hairM darling ! 

My beautiful and bright ! 
Of stories fine, great store have I, 

Thou wilt not forth to-night "?" 

" Nay, grandam !" lisp'd the loved one. 

With playful, pleading look, 
" Thy legends keep, till I come back. 

With blossoms from the brook !" 



©^ 



18 THE LUTIN-STEED. 

******** 

" They're gone '/' old Margaret murmur'd, 

A.nd fierce the Mistral blew, 
And spirit voices echo'd round, 

" Gone ! gone !" the long night through !- 

" She talk'd of wind and tempest," 
The careless wanderers cried, — 

" Now never walk'd the moon in heaven, 
With more resplendent pride ! 

" Ha ! there's old Caspar's horse, 

His mane like midnight flows, 
Mount ! mount ! away, my little steed I 

How gallantly he goes ! 

" He'll bear us to the fountain ; 

We'll have a glorious ride !" 
*' Oh ! brothers dear — I fear — I fear !" 

The youthful Adolphe cried, — 



THE LUTIN-STEED. 19 

" He goes not to the fountain — 

I hear the sea-waves roar — 
And hark ! the tempest raves above— 

And see — the rain doth pour ! 

" Oh ! turn him ! — turn him homeward ! 

How wild — how fast he flies ! 
It is — it is — a Lutin-steed ! 

And he who rides him — dies !" 

They strove in vain to turn him, 
They strove to check his speed ; — 

The lightning- glares ! — the thunder howls 
Around the demon-steed ! — 

The ocean heaves before him — 

He neighs with fiendish joy — 
His flaming hoofs have touch'd the beach — 

Heaven save that hapless boy ! 

The cold waves kiss their white lips, 

And deeper yet they go ; 
The cold waves close above their heads,— 

And drown that shriek of wo ! — 



20 love's reply. 



******** 
******** 
******** 

The maiden at her lattice, — 
The grandam at her door, — 

And morniTig on the misty hills ! — 
But they come never more I 



LOVE'S REPLY. 

I'll tell you something chanced to me, 
(A quaint and simple story,) 

Before I cross'd, with dreaming heart 
Old ocean's gloom and glory. 

Around me came three graceful girls, 
Their farewell whisper breathing, — 

Julie, — with light and lovely curls, 
Her snowy shoulders wreathing ; 



love's reply. 21 



And proud Georgine, — with stately mien, 

A.nd glance of calm hauteur, 
Who moves — a Grace, — and looks — a queen, 

All passionless and pure ; 

And Kate, whose low, melodious tone 

Is tuned by Truth and Feeling, 
Whose shy yet wistful eyes talk on, 

When fear her lips is sealing. 

" From what far country shall I write V 

I ask'd, with pride elated, 
" From what rare monument of art 

Shall be my letters dated V 

Julie toss'd back her locks of light. 

With girlish grace and glee, — 
" To me from glorious Venice write, 

Queen-city of the Sea !" 

" And thou, Georgine ?" Her dark eyes flash'd,- 

" Ah ! date to me your lines 
From some proud palace, where the pomp 

Of olden Honor shines !" 



22 THE FAN. 



But Kate, — the darling of my soal, 

My bright, yet bashful flower^ 
In whose dear heart some new, pure leaf, 

Seems to unfold each hour, — 

Kate turn'd her shy, sweet looks from mine, 

Lest I her blush should see. 
And said — so only Love could hear — 

" Write from your lieart to me V 



THE FAN, 

A tOVER's FANTASY. 



Dainty spirit, that dost lie 
Couch'd within the zephyr's sigh. 
Murmur in mine earnest ear 
Music of the starry sphere ! 
Softest melody divine 
Lend unto each lyric line, 



'I 
THE FAN. 23 



Till the lay of love shall seem 
Light and airy as its theme. 

Ah ! not unto mortal wight 
Wilt thou whisper, frolic sprite 1 
Fancy ! wave thy fairy wing. 
While the magic Fan I sing ! 

Airy minister of Fate, 
On whose meaning motions wait 
Half an hundred butterflies, 
Idle beaux — more fond than wise — 
Basking in the fatal smile 
That but wins them to beguile "! 
Blest be they who fashionM thee, 
Beauty's graceful toy to be! 
Virgin gold from Orient cave — 
Veined pearl from ocean's wave — 
Showing like her temples fair 
Through her curls of lustrous hair — 
Tints of richest glow and light 
From a master's palette bright. 
On the parchment rarely wrought, 
Till the painting life has caught, — 

© - - -© 



^(5) 



24 



THE FAN. 



All have made thee plaything fit, 
For a maiden's grace and wit. 
She can teach thee witchery's spell, 
Make thy lightest motion tell^ 
Bid thee speak, though mute thou art. 
All the language of the heart. 

When her eyes say softly " yes," 
Thou canst hide and yet express 
All the enchanting blush would speak 
While it warms her modest cheek, 
And thy motion well can show, 
With one flutter to or fro. 
Her disdain's indignant " no." 

Queen of fans ! the downy pressure 
Of her snow-white, dimpled hand, 
As it clasps the costly treasure, 
Wrought in India's glowing land. 
Has it not a soul impress'd 
On the toy by her caress'd ? 



Ah ! what ministry divine, 

Frail, yet love-taught fan, is thine ! 



THE FAN. 25 

Thou shouldst be a beauteous bird, 
Flying at her lightest word, 
Nestling near her silken zone, 
Like a gem on Beauty's throne, 
Or a young aerial sprite 
Watching every smile of light : 
Art thou not 1 Methinks I trace. 
Now and then, an angel face 
Gleaming, as thy painted wing 
Flies before her — happy thing ! 
Sometimes I could almost swear 
Love himself had hidden there. 
Aiming thence his shafts of fire. 
Now in sport and now in ire. 
Hearts obey each proud behest 
By thy lightest touch express'd, 
As thou glancest to and fro. 
Fluttering in her hand of snow. 
So, fair spirit, fold thy wing 
While thy ministry I sing ! 
Softly wave each careless curl 
O'er her brow — the radiant girl ; 
Fan each pure and precious tint 
Feeling on her cheek doth print ; 



©. 



26 



THE FAN. 



Wake it from its pure repose, 
Till the dear blush comes and goes ; 
Shade the dimple's frolic grace 
Sporting o'er her sunny face ; 
Hide the smile of playful scorn 
From her spirit's buoyance born ; 
Veil the timid sigh that parts, 
Trembling, from her " heart of hearts ;" 
Aid the glances — words of light — 
Flashing from her eye's blue night, 
And her dearest bidding do, 
Like an Ariel fond and true ! 

All sweet airs and incense wait 
On thy wave, fair wand of Fate ! 
Soft and balmy, as her sigh. 

Be each zephyr thou dost wake, 
Round her graceful head to fly, 

Blest be thou for Beauty's sake ! 



Yet, oh spirit ! fold thy wing, 
While thy ministry I sing ! 
Show her how some touch, too bold, 
Marr'd thy robe of pearl and gold ; 



THE FAN. 27 

Wliisper as thou wavest by, 
Beauty's light like thine will die 
If she waste its bloom divine 
On the idlers round her shrine ; 
Warn her that her spirit's wing 
Be not ever fluttering ; 
For if that should break, or show 
Lightest shade upon its snow, 
Lives no mortal artisan 
That can make it briarht aorain ! 
Tears may bathe the broken plume, 
Sighs may mourn its early doom — 
Only may it hope for rest 
Folded on the Father's breast. 

So, fair spirit, wave thy wing, 
And my message softly sing! 
** Do thy spiriting gently" there, 
Lest thou wound a soul so rare, 
And be this the warning dear 
Murmur'd in her ivory ear — 

" Lovely lady, have a care ! 
Words are more than idle air, 



28 



THE FAN. 



Smiles can surer wound or heal 
Than the stars, whose light they steal. 
She whose power is undenied 
Should have pity with her pride, 
Should remember, while her frown 
Clouds the hope she may not crown, 
Rarest skill and subtlest art 
Cannot mend the hroken heart /" 
So, fair spirit, wave thy wing, 
And thy warning softly sing ! 



TO SYBIL. 



" Sooth her in sorrow and brighten her smile ; 
Chide her most gently if folly beguile ; 
One so unsullied and trustful of heart, 
From the good shepherd will never depart. 

" Now she adores thee as one without spot, 
Dreams not of sorrow to darken her lot. 
Joyful, yet tearful, I yield her to thee ; 
Take her, the light of thy dwelling to be." 



Yes ! go to him — thy young heart full 

Of passionate romance, 
And be the fiat of thy fate 

His lordly word and glance ! 

Be thy soul's day, his careless smile ; 

His frown, its clouded night ; 
His voice, the music of thy life ; 

His love, thy one delight ! 

3* 



& 



30 



TO SYBIL. 



Sit at his feet, and raise to his 

Those large, pure, dreaming eyes, 

And tell him all thy lovely thoughts 
As radiantly they rise. 

Press to his hand that childish cheek. 
And stroke his stern dark face, 

And charm him with thy ways so meek, 
Thy glad, aerial grace ! 

Look for his coming with clasp'd hands 
And hush'd and listening heart. 

And strive to hide thy joyous tears 
With woman's bashful art. 

And in thy low Eolian tones, 

Melodiously wild. 
Falter thy fond, sweet welcome out, 

Oh, rare, enchanting child J 

Then if he coldly turn away. 

In silence to him steal, 
And touch his soul with one long gaze 

Of passionate appeal. 



=<Q 



TO SYBIL. 31 



I know them all — th' endearing wiles — 
The sweet, unconscious art — 

The graceful spells that nature taught 
Her darling's docile heart. 

I know them all — I've seen thee lift, 

At some unkindly tone, 
Those dark, upbraiding eyes of thine, 

Where sorrowing wonder shone. 

And sudden tears would dim the glance, 
And then — the wrong forgiven — 

A smile would steal up in the cloud, 
Like starlight into heaven. 

Go — try them all — those girlish wiles ! 

He cannot choose but love, 
He cannot choose but guard from ill 

His little, nestling dove ! 

For rare, my Sybil, 'tis to see 

Thy iris-mind unfold ; 
The magic of thy maiden glee, 

That turns all gloom to gold ; — 



32 



TO SYBIL. 



--© 



Th' aurora blush that on thy cheek 

Thy heart's love-story tells ; 
The wondrous world within thine eyes 

Lit up like the gazelle's. 

But if thou think'st, dear dreaming child ! 

That he will watch as now, 
In after years, each smile and shade 

That cross thy changing brow ; 

And modulate his tone to meet 

The pleading of thy soul, 
And feel in all his wanderings. 

Thy gentle breast his goal ; 

And daily feed thy mind and heart 

With hallow'd love and lore, 
Nor turn from those imploring eyes. 

That wistful look for more ; 



And watch thee where — as borne in air — 
Thou float'st the dance along, 

And deem thy form alone is fair, 
Of all the fairy throng ; 



TO SYBIL. 33 

In transport look and listen when 

Thy light caressing hands 
Lure forth the harp's harmonious soul, 

From all its silver bands ; 

Indulgent stoop his falcon-will 

To let it fly with thine, 
And smile in manly pride to see 

His pet's soft plumage shine ; 

And yield to every gay caprice, 

And grieve for every sigh, 
And grant all airy hopes that play 

On pleading lip or eye ; 

If this thy dream, enthusiast, be, 

I can but idly pray, 
Heaven shield thee in thy waking hour, 

And keep it long away ! 



^a 



34 



A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 



A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 

At the bar of Judge Conscience, stood Reason ar- 

raign'd, 
The Jury impannell'd — the prisoner chain'd. 
The Judge was facetious, at times, though severe, 
Now waking a smile, and now drawing a tear ; 
An old-fashion'd, fidgety, queer-looking wight, 
With a clerical air, and an eye quick as light. 

" Here, Reason, you vagabond ! look in my face ; 
I'm told you're becoming an idle scapegrace. 
They say that young Fancy, that airy coquette. 
Has dared to fling round you her luminous net ; 
That she ran away with you, in spite of yourself, 
For pure love of frolic — the mischievous elf. 



" The scandal is whisper'd by friends and by foes. 
And darkly they hint too, that when they propose 



A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 



35 



Any question to your ear, so lightly you're led, 
At once to gay Fancy, you turn your wild head ; 
And she leads you off in some dangerous dance, 
As wild as the Polka that gallop'd from France. 

" Now up to the stars with you, laughing, she 

springs. 
With a whirl and a whisk of her changeable wings ; 
Now dips in some fountain her sun-painted plume, 
That gleams thro' the spray, like a rainbow in 

bloom ; 
Now floats in a cloud, while her tresses of light 
Shine through the frail boat and illumine its flight ; 
Now glides through the woodland to gather its 

flowers ; 
Now darts like a flash to the sea's coral bowers ; 
In short — cuts such capers, that with her I ween 
It's a wonder you are not ashamed to be seen ! 

" Then she talks such a language ! — melodious 

enough. 
To be sure — but a strange sort of outlandish stuff! 
I'm told that it licenses many a whapper, 
And when once she commences no frowning can 

stop her ; 



© 



=© 



36 



A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 



Since it's new — I've no doubt it is very improper ! 

They say that she cares not for order or law ; 

That of you — you great dunce ! — she but makes a 
cat's paw. 

I've no sort of objection to fun in it's season, 

But it's plain that this Fancy i^ fooling you, Rea- 
son !" 

Just then into court flew a strange little sprite. 

With wings of all colors and ringlets of light ! 

She frolick'd round Reason — till Reason grew 

wild, 
Defying the court and caressing the child. 
The judge and the jury, the clerk and recorder, 
In vain call'd this exquisite creature to order : — 
" Unheard of intrusion !" — They bustled about. 
To seize her, but, wild with delight, at the rout, 
She flew from their touch like a bird from a spray. 
And went waltzing and whirling and singing away ! 



Now up to the ceiling, now down to the floor ! 
Were never such antics in courthouse before ! 
But a lawyer, well versed in the tricks of his trade, 
A trap for the gay little innocent laid : 
He held up a mirror, and Fancy was caught 



A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 37 

By her image within it, so lovely, she thought. 
What could the fair creature be ! — bending its eyes 
On her own with so wistful a look of surprise ! 
She flew to embrace it. The lawyer was ready : 
He closed round the spirit a grasp cool and steady, 
And she sigh'd, while he tied her two luminous wings, 
" Ah ! Fancy and Falsehood are different things !" 

The witnesses — maidens of uncertain age, 
With a critic, a publisher, lawyer and sage — 
All scandalized greatly at what they had heard, 
Of this poor little Fancy, (who flew like a bird !) 
Were call'd to the stand and their evidence gave : 
The judge charged the jury, with countenance grave. 
Their verdict was " guilty,"' and Reason look'd down, 
As his honor exhorted her thus, with a frown : — 

" This Fancy, this vagrant, for life shall be chain'd. 
In your own little cell, where you should have re- 

main'd ; 
And you — for your punishment — ^jailer shall be : 
Don't let your accomplice come coaxing to me ! 
I'll none of her nonsense — the little wild witch ! 
Nor her bribes — although rumor does say she is rich. 

4 



38 A FLIGHT OF FANCY. 

" I've heard that all treasures and luxuries rare, 
Gather round at her bidding, from earth, sea, and 

air ; 
And some go so far as to hint, that the powers 
Of darkness attend her more sorrowful hours. 
But go !" and Judge Conscience, who never was 

bought, 
Just bow'd the pale prisoner out of the court. 

'Tis said, — that poor Reason next morning was 

found, 
At the door of her cell, fast asleep on the ground. 
And nothing within, but one plume rich and rare. 
Just to show that young Fancy's wing once had been 

there. 
She had dropp'd it, no doubt, while she strove to get 

through 
The hole in the lock, which she could not undo. 



THE heart's answer. 39 



THE HEART'S ANSWER. 



" Speak — speak to me, darling ! 

Hide thy sweet blush in my breast ; 
Breathe but one dear little murmur ; 

Thine eyes shall tell me the rest. 

" Say only thou wilt be mine, love ; 

Whisper me one little — ' Yes !' 
Ah ! thou art silent, — thy soul, love, 

Feels not my pleading caress !" 

Low as the sigh of a flower. 
Heard in the stillness of night, 

Came the fond tones of the maiden, 
Tremblinff with fear and delifrht, — 



40 



LOVE S MISTAKE. 



" Ask not the word from my lips, love ; 

Need'st thou so idle a sign ! 
Dost thou not hear my heart answer, 

Thus beating softly on thine V 



LOVE'S MISTAKE 

On mission pure, from realms divine. 
Young Love was sent to Virtue's shrine, 
But, wild and gay, he " stopp'd to play" 
With sportive Beauty by the way. 

She led him thro' her balmy bowers, 
She chain'd him with a wreath of flowers, 
She charm'd him with her magic smile, 
And softly murmur'd — " Rest awhile !" 



Alas ! his sight is blinded quite, 

By Beauty's dazzling glance of light ; 



I 



TO A DEAR LITTLE TRUANT. 



=o 



41 



And while the wily siren sings, 
The boy forgets his angel-wings I 

Yet still he sometimes leaves his play, 
And asks to Virtue's shrine the way ; 
But Beauty weaves anew her chain, 
And Virtue looks for Love in vain. 



TO A DEAR LITTLE TRUANT, 

TVho wouldri't come home. 

When are you coming 1 the flowers have come ! 
Bees in the balmy air happily hum ; 
In the dim woods where the cool mosses are, 
Gleams the Anemone's little, light star ; 
Tenderly, timidly down in the dell, 
Sighs the sweet violet, droops the harebell ; — 
Soft in the wavy grass lightens the dew ; 
Spring keeps her promises, — why do not you ? 

4* 



42 TO A DEAR LITTLE TRUANT. 

Up in the blue air, the clouds are at play, — 
You are more graceful and lovely than they ; 
Birds in the branches sing all the day long, 
When are you coming to join in their song ? 
Fairer than flowers, and fresher than dew ! 
Other sweet things are here, — why are not you ? 

Why don't you come 1 we have welcomed the Rose ! 
Every light zephyr, as gayly it goes, 
Whispers of other flowers, met on its way, 
Why has it nothing of you, love, to say ? 
Why does it tell us of music and dew 1 
Rose of the South ! we are waiting for you ! 

Do not delay, darling, 'mid the dark trees, 

" Like a lute" murmurs the musical breeze ; 

Sometimes the brook, as it trips by the flowers, 

Hushes its warble to listen for yours. 

Pure as the rivulet, — lovely and true ! 

Spring should have waited till she could bring you I 



LULU. 43 



LULU. 

There's many a maiden 

More brilliant, by far, 
With the step of a fawn, 

And the glance of a star ; 
But heart there was never 

More tender and true, 
Than beats in the boso\n 

Of darling Lulu ! 

Her eyes are too modest 

To dazzle ; but oh ! 
They win you to love her, 

If you will or no ! 
And when they glance up, 

With their shy, startled look, 
Her soul trembles in them, 

Like light in a brook. 



44 



LULU 



There are bright eyes by thousands, 

Black, hazel, and blue ; 
But whose are so loving 

As those of Lulu ! 

And waves of soft hair, 

That a poet would vow 
Was moonlight on marble, 

Droop over her brow. 
The rose rarely blooms 

Thro' that light, silken maze, 
But when it does play there. 

How softly it plays ! 
Oh ! there's many a maiden 

More brilliant, 'tis true, 
But none so enchanting 

As little Lulu I 

She flits, like a fairy, 

About me all day, 
Now nestling beside me. 

Now up and away ! 
She singeth unbidden, 

With warble as wild 



^ 



LULU. 45 



As the lay of the meadow-lark, 

Innocent child ! 
She's playful, and tender, 

And trusting, and true. 
She's sweet as a lily, 

My dainty Lulu ! 

She whispers sweet fancies. 

Now mournful, now bright. 
Then deepen her glances. 

With love and delight ; 
And the slow, timid smile, 

That dawns in her face, 
Seems fill'd with her spirit's 

Ineffable grace. 
Oh ! the world cannot offer 

A treasure so true. 
As the childlike devotion 

Of happy Lulu ! 



46 



A REPLY. 



A REPLY 

TO ONE WHO SAID, " WRITE FROM YOUR HEART 

Ah ! woman still 

Must veil the shrine, 
Where feeling feeds the fire divine, 

Nor sing at will. 

Untaught by art. 
The music prison'd in her heart ! 

Still gay the note, 

And light the lay, 
The woodbird warbles on the spray, 

Afar to float ; 

But homeward flown. 
Within his nest, how changed the tone ! 



Oh ! none can knovv, 

Who have not heard 

The music-soul that thrills the bird, 



TO MY MOTHER. 47 



The carol low, 
As coo of dove 
He warbles to his woodland-love ! 

The world would say 

'Twas vain and wild, 
Th' impassion'd lay of Nature's child; 

And Feeling, so 

Should veil the shrine, 
Where softly glow her fires divine ! 



TO MY MOTHER. 
Sweet mother ! you fear while no longer you guide 



me. 



The Past will be lost in the Present's gay show ; 
But ah ! whether joy or misfortune betide me, 
I love you too dearly, i/our love to forego ! 



© 



48 TO MY MOTHER. 



I would not, for all that the Future can bring me, 
Forget the dear hours when I sat at your feet, 

The song, that was sure of approval to sing thee, 
The look, that was always so loving to meet. 

When 1 flew to your smile with each joyous emo- 
tion. 

But hid from your heart every sorrow I knew ; — 
Oh ! wayward perhaps was my childish devotion ; 

But it ne'er for a moment was cold or untrue. 

And still, when the chill wing of wo darkens o'er 
me, 
I am grateful its shadow extends not to thee ; 
While if Praise thrill my heart or if joy smile before 
me, 
I sigh — " Could she know it, how glad she would 
be !" 

Sweet mother ! too fondly your darling you cher- 
ish'd. 

For me to forget you, wherever I go, — 
Ah no ! not till memory's power has perish'd ; 

I love you too dearly to turn from you so ! 



THE BROKEN LYRE. 49 



THE BROKEN LYRE. 

A DAINTY lyre was lent to Joy, 
A simple, frail, but treasured toy ; — 
And gaily sweet its tones were heard, 
As warble of a wandering bird. 

A blooming boy from distant clime 
Came by and caught its silvery chime, 
He coax'd from Joy his fragile lyre, 
And swept the strings with hand of fire. 

Ah ! wo the day— that reckless child 
Awoke the chords with will so wild ! 
One pleading, passionate strain he play'd. 
And broke the lyre, that Heaven had made ! 

Ah ! wo the day — that stranger sprite 
Attuned to grief the plaything light, 
And strain'd its chords with childish art ! — 
The boy was Love — the lyre a heart ! 



5 



50 GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 

FROM A MATRON TO A MAIDEN. 

" While I touch the string, 

Wreathe my brows with laurel ; 
For the song I sing 

Has for once a moral '." — Moore. 

Come listen, while in careless rhyme, 
Some golden rules I give you 

That you may hoard the wealth of Time, 
And life may not deceive you. 

In childhood's hours, when in the sun 
Our sportive group assembled, 

And off our frail pipes, one by one, 
The glittering bubbles trembled ; 

If mine with lovelier lustre shone, 
Or higher soar'd, — what trouble ! 

My brother, leaving all his oivn, 
Blew out my beaming bubble ! 



-b 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



51 



And thus the world — when young Romance 

Her airy dreams is weaving, 
And Hope's soft rainbows round them dance, 

As radiant, as deceiving, 

Thus will the world, my child, destroy. 

With treachery more refined, 
The soaring dreams of love and joy, 

The bubbles of the mind ! 

Then yet in time a lesson learn, 

From one who learn'd too late, 
That world, whose laugh we laugh to scorn. 

Her fiat here is fate ! 

When honor, placed in reason's scales. 

Outweighs THE owl's opinion, 
All free and fearless, trim your sails, 

And steer for Heaven's dominion ! 

But still in trifles, where no wrong 

Can come of yielding to her. 
Oh ! chord with hers your careless song. 

And of her smiles be sure ! 



iO)-- 



52 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



When Love would fling his flowery net 

Around your joyous spirit, 
Ask not for rank, or wealth, or wit, 

But yield to manly merit. 

Remember — Love but seldom strings 
His flowers on golden wire, 

Remember — Wit has wanton wings, 
That might put out his fire. 

Your heart be like a stainless glass, 
Where fleeting, outward graces 

But lend their beauty as they pass, 
And leave behind no traces ; 

On which — its subtle nature's such, 
The gem of gems — in glory — 

The diamond, with its lightning touch. 
Alone can write love's story. 



As to the moon, the ocean's tide 
Subjects its strength unduly, 

So let a light from Heaven, love, guide 
The tide of passion truly. 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



53 



If sorrow come — resist it not, 

Nor yet bow weakly to it ; 
Look up to meet the Heaven-sent-^storm ; 

But see the rainbow thro' it ! 

And let not pleasure's reckless hands 
Too often shake time's glass, love : 

At best, the few and priceless sands 
Too surely, swiftly pass, love ! 

And seek not bliss on airy heights, 
Where dizzy power doth rally ! 

The " fragrant little heart's-ease" lights 
The lowliest, humblest valley. 

The gem that clasps a royal robe 
The worldling's eye may dazzle, 

But Love will light his glow-worm lamp 
In cot as well as castle. 



The magic flower in Erin's Isle, 
That bears about a blessing. 

Perchance is but good-humor's smile, 
A kindly heart's caressing. 



5* 



54 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



ta 



If comes a blow, from friend or foe, 

With earnest good avenge it, 
" The sandal-tree, with fragrant sigh, 

Perfumes the axe that rends it." 

Be like the sun, whose eye of joy 

Ne'er on a shadow lay, love ! 
Be like the rill that singeth still, 

Whatever be in its way, love ! 

Ne'er waste your heart in vain regret, 

Tho' youth be dimm'd by care ; 
" For lovelier flowers than summer wreathes 

May twine in winter's hair." 

With childlike trust look forward still. 

For Heaven is always near ; 
" Full oft our very fear of ill 

Exceeds the ill we fear." 



Nor question Fate ! the world-ship still 

Under seal'd orders sailing ; 
'Twere best the great Commander's skill 

To trust with faith unfailing. 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 55 

Nor idly waste the golden hours, 
The plumes of Time's swift wings : 

The watch must still be wound to work, 
Or rust corrodes its springs. 

If once a purpose pure and high 

You form, for naught forego it ! 
" The mulberry leaf to silk is changed 

By Patience," says the poet. 

Let Fancy fly her fairy kite, 

And light with wit its wing, dear ; 

But oh, lest it go out of sight, 
Bid Reason hold the string, dear. 

For, soaring where the poet's heaven 

With starry gems is spangled. 
It might, by Folly's zephyr driven, 

In moonshine get entangled. 

Yet sneer not thou at those who rise 

To loftier delusions ; 
" Great truths are oft," the sage replies, 

" Foreshadow'd by illusions." 



-d 



56 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 



Confide in Frienrl ship's right good- will, 

But not too o:len task it ; 
" It is the highest price we pay 

For any thing, to ask it." 

If Nature's glorious overture 
Discordant seem to be, love. 

Be sure your heart is out of tune. 
And try the sounding key, love ! 

Let more than the domestic mill 
Be turned by Feeling's river ; 

Let Charity " begin at home," 
But not stay there forever. 

Look on the poor with pitying eyes, 
And " reason not the need ,•" 

For angels in that mean disguise 
May often ask their meed. 



But if a debt by honor seal'd 

Uncancell'd yet remain, 
Oh, ne'er to generous impulse yield 

What Justice asks in vain ! 



GOLDEN RULES IN RHYME. 57 

Be frank and pure, and brave and true, — 

True to thyself and Heaven ; 
And be thy friends, the gifted few ; 

And be thy foes forgiven. 

And hold thyself so dear, so high, 

That evil conae not near thee. 
That meanness dare not meet thine eye, 

And Falsehood fly and fear thee ! 

Shrink not to aim the shafts of wit, 

At all that's mean or narrow ; 
But oh, before you bend the bow, 

Be sure it holds the arrow ! 

Command your temper, guard your tongue, 

Lest they have sway undue ; 
For deeds, not words, the bell be rung, 

Which fame may ring for you ! 

And so, if from my careless rhyme, 

You cull the rose of Reason, 
I have not wasted all my time. 

But said " a word in season." 



58 



A SONG. 



A SONG-. 

Call me pet names, dearest ! Call me a bird, 
That flies to thy breast at one cherishing word, 
That folds its wild wings there, ne'er dreaming of 

flight, 
That tenderly sings there in loving delight ! 
Oh ! my sad heart keeps pining for one fond 

word, — 
Call me pet names, dearest ! Call me thy bird ! 



Call me sweet names, darling ! Call me a flower. 
That lives in the light of thy smile each hour. 
That droops when its heaven — thy heart — grows 

cold. 
That shrinks from the wicked, the false and bold, 
That blooms for thee only, through sunlight and 

shower ; 
Call me pet names, darling ! Call me thy flower ! 



'-(Q 



A SONG. 59 

Call me fond names, dearest ! Call me a star, 
Whose smile's beaming welcome thou feel'st from 

afar, 
Whose light is the clearest, the truest to thee, 
When the " night-time of sorrow" steals over life's 

sea : 
Oh ! trust thy rich bark, where its warm rays are. 
Call me pet names, darling ! Call me thy star ! 

Call me dear names, darling ! Call me thine own ! 

Speak to me always in Love's low tone ! 

Let not thy look nor thy voice grow cold : 

Let my fond worship thy being enfold ; 

Love me forever, and love me alone ! 

Call me pet names, darling ! Call me thine own ! 



-@ 



60 THE spirit's voyage. 



THE SPIRIT'S VOYAGE. 

"When the child was buried, a little canoe with a sail to it, la- 
den with bread-fruit and cocoas, was sent off from the shore with 
a fair wind, in order, as they said, to bear the spirit of the dead 
away from the land of the living." 

" They've fill'd with fruit their frail canoe, 
With fruit and flowers of brilliant hue, 
A blooming freight — but whose the hand 
To guide the light thing from the land ? 
So feathery light, — 'twould seem a sin 
To trust a fairy's weight within. 
The waves are bright, — the skies are fair, — 
A balmy blessing is the air, — 
Her sail is set, — she glides away ! 
Where goes the graceful boat to-day 1 
I hear no voice come o'er the tide ; 
I see no form the helm beside ; 
And it might seem a moment's toy. 



Of 



THE spirit's voyage. 61 

But that they wear no smile of joy, 

And fondly watch its snowy wing, 

As if it were a holy thing : — 

Why send they forth their boat to be 

A plaything for the reckless sea "?" 

" Oh, stranger ! calm or wild the tide, 

Their light canoe will safely glide, 

And all unscathed by tempest-shock. 

By coral-reef or roughest rock, 

Ere morn, its white sail will be furl'd 

Forever in the spirit-world. 

A viewless hand that bark obeys, 

A voice unheard the sea-wave sways, 

A thing so holy and so fair, 

Serene and safe, is smiling there. 

That fiercest winds before it falter, 

And into harmless zephyrs alter. 

Ah ! well may they the wanderer mark ; 

For know, — within that blessed bark. 

The spirit of a little child 

Is playing on the waters wild ! 

Behold our chieftain's burial-ground ! 

We raised to-day another mound. 

Behold its lone and hallow'd tree ! 

So graceful and so fair was she. 

6 



-=<3) 



62 THE spirit's voyage. 

But look ! — the boat is seen no more ; 
The mourning train have left the shore ; 
And, hark ! those accents sad and wild ! 
Our island chief laments his child." 



THE LAMENT. 

No more ! — ah ! never, never more ! 

Her precious feet will tread. 
Like light, our dwelling's coral floor, 

By young affection led ; 



* 



Those little feet, whose graceful fall, 

So airy and so gay. 
Broke not the frailest shell of all 

That glitter'd in her way. 

No more ! Ah ! never, never more, 
Her glancing hands will braid 

Our painted mats to shade the door. 
Where warm the noontide play'd ! 

* The floor of the hut is strewed with fragments of coral and 

shell. 

(L^=^^^ 



THE spirit's voyage. 63 

No more with lightest limbs she'll spring 

Far up the cocoa-tree, 
No more the cocoa-cup she'll bring, 

With sunny smile to me ! 

But safer, through the land of souls, 

Those tender feet shall go. 
And where the endless river rolls. 

More rich the cocoas grow ; 

■And still beneath her joyous hand 

The spirit-fruit shall rise, 
Forever blooming through the land. 

Where nothing droops and dies ! 

Her dark hair's long and glossy stream. 

Shall bright kahullahs deck ; 
And wreaths of rainbow shells shall gleam 

Around her arms and neck. 

Play on amid those fragrant bowers, 

My fair and happy child ! 
Ere long another bark of ours 

Shall brave the waters wild ; 



--^ 



64 A REMONSTRANCE. 

And though 'twould scarce — a boat so weak, 

The sin-weigK'd soul, sustain, 
A father's spirit cannot seek 

His only child in vain ! 



A REMONSTRANCE. 

WRITTEN AT THE CATSKILL MOUNTAIN HOUSE. 

What, here ! where the soul feels an angel's elation, 
Where the balm of the breeze is worth all the 
world's wealth ! 
Oh ! profane not the place by so low a libation. 
While pure from the rock springs the fountain of 
health ! 

What, here ! where the wood-bird its warble subdu- 
ing, 

Keeps holy our Sabbath with music and love, 
And Earth, her wild blossoms forever renewing, 

Sends up, in their perfume, her praises above ! 



A REMONSTRANCE. 65 

Where the skies seem to bend, in their luminous 
beauty, 

So loving and low o'er the green mountain-sod, 
That the spirit, attuned to devotion and duty. 

Sees Nature embracing her Father and God ! 

No temple can match, with a glory so solemn, 
The forest-cathedral that rises around ; 

The pine's stately shaft, for the fair marble column. 
All vein'd with the sunlight, and gracefully 
crown'd ; 

Its dome — the unlimited arch, glowing o'er us ; 
Its censer — yon budding spray, swung by the 
breeze ; 
Its music — the hymn of the fountain before us ; 
Its light — Heaven's smile — stealing soft through 
the trees : 

And oh ! the bright treasures around and below us5 
The buds of the wild mountain-laurel, behold ! 

So perfect, so gem-like ! where, where will you 
show us 
A richer mosaic in temple of old 1 



66 BOIS TON SANG, BEAUMANOIR. 



Profane not the place by so base a libation ! 

Look around ye — look upward ! and drink if ye 
dare! 
Away with the wine-cup, the curse of creation ! 

Yon fount has enough for us all, and to spare. 



"BOIS TON SANG, BEAUMANOIR!"* 

Fierce raged the combat — the foemen press'd nigh, 

When from young Beaumanoir rose the wild cry, 

Beaumanoir, 'mid them all, bravest and first, 

" Give me to drink, for I perish of thirst !" 

Hark ! at his side, in the deep tones of ire, 

" Bois ton SANG, Beaumanoir !" shouted his sire ! 

Deep had it pierced him — the foemen's swift sword — 
Deeper his soul felt the wound of that word ! 

* The incident is related in Froissart's Clironicles. 



THE lily's delusion. 67 

Back to the battle, with forehead all flush'd, 
Stung to wild fury, the noble youth rush'd ! 
Scorn in his dark eyes — his spirit on fire — • 
Deeds were his answer that day to his sire. 
Still where triumphant the young hero came, 
Glory's bright garland encircled his name ; 
But in her bower, to beauty a slave. 
Dearer the guerdon his lady-love gave, 
While on his shield that no shame had defaced, 
" Bois ton sang, Beaumanoir !" proudly she traced ! 



THE LILyS DELUSION. 

A COLD, calm star look'd out of heaven, 
And smiled upon a tranquil lake, 

Where, pure as angeFs dream at even, 
A Lily lay but half awake. 

The flower felt that fatal smile 

And lowlier bow'd her conscious head ; 



--^ 



68 THE FETTER 'NEATH THE FLOWERS. 

" Why does he gaze on me the while ?" 
The light, deluded Lily said. 

Poor dreaming flower ! — too soon beguiled, 
She cast nor thought nor look elsewhere, 

Else she had known the star but smiled 
To see himself reflected there. 



THE FETTER 'NEATH THE FLOWERS. 

Cupid flung his garland gaily 
O'er a maid in seeming play ;^ 

Sage Experience whisper'd daily, 

" Break the chain, while yet you may !" 

"Why?" she cried—" 'tis but a toy, 
FormM of many a fragrant flower ; 

Let me still its bloom enjoy, — 
I can break it any hour." 



9 o 

TO . 69 

Long she sported freely, lightly, 
With her soft and glowing chain ; — 

" Nay ! it clasps my heart so tightly, 
I must break the toy in twain.'' 

Vain resolve I — the tie that bound her, 
Harden'd 'neath her struggling will ; 

Fast its blossoms fell around her, 
But the fetter lincrer'd still. 



TO 



They tell me in Fashion's illumined saloon. 
Where the dance lightly echoes the melody's tunc, 
Where Beauty and Grace weave the spell of delight, 
And the waltz and mazourka mock Time in his flight, 
Where they crown the gay hours with rarest of 

flowers, 
No forms floating there are more lovely tlian yours ; 
That the brightest of balls wants a charm and a grace, 
If your eyes refuse their sott light to the place. 



e 



70 TO . 

I seek not — I love not the balls of the gay, 
Where m)'- lone spirit pines for its dear ones away ; 
I see not your beauty when deck'd for the dance, 
When blossom and gem mock the blush and the 

glance ; 
You come not to me in the glow of your pride, 
For you know I've a welcome, but nothing beside ; 
Yet you bring me a smile that is sweeter by far 
Than the gay one whose light is the festival's star ; 
While with heart full of love, as your hands are of 

toys. 
You bless sunny childhood by sharing its joys. 
Oh ! dearer its innocent rapture than all 
The praises that follow the belle of the ball ; 
And you seem at such moments more graceful to me. 
Than you would when array'd for the festival's glee. 



---Q 



TO SARAH. 71 



TO SARAH, 



ARRANGING HER HAIR. 



Oh, rich in heart ! what matter how 
The silken tresses shade your brow 1 
What matter, whether gem or rose, 

Or simple riband wreathe your hair, 
While that soft blush so purely glows. 

While those dark eyes such beauty wear T 

No rich array could lend your form, 
Thus airy-light, one added charm ; 
No jewel gift that girlish face 
With lovelier glow or softer grace ; 
And he who looks on you with eyes. 
Where all his soul to yours replies, 
Is prouder of )^ou simply so. 
Than when adorn'd your graces glow ; 
And joys to know his fairy flower 



72 



VENUS AND THE MODERN BELLE. 



Can gayly bloom in Home's sweet bower, 
While some, less fair, the hot-house air 
Of Flattery and Excitement need, 
Their frail and fleeting smiles to feed. 

Ah ! " bonnie bird !" — thus ever rest, 
Confiding in your love-built nest ; 
And when around you throng the few 
I leave, who share my love with you. 
Oh ! warble soft, in friendship's ear, 

Her name, who'd gladly share your glee, 
But do not sing too sweetly, dear. 

Lest you beguile them all from me. 



VENUS AND THE MODERN BELLE. 



Young Beauty look'd over her gems one night, 
And stole to her glass with a petulant air : 

She braided her hair with their burning light. 

Till they play'd like the gleam of a glowworm 
there. 



I — — o 

VENUS AND THE MODERN BELLE. 73 

Then she folded, over her form of grace, 

A costly robe from an Indian loom, — 
But a cloud overshadow'd her exquisite face, 

And Love's sunny dimple was hid in the gloom. 

" It is useless !" she murmur'd, — " my jewels have 
lost 
All their lustre, since last they illumined my 
curls !" 
And she snatch'd off the treasures, and haughtily 
toss'd, 
Into brilliant confusion, gold, rubies, and pearls. 

Young Beauty was plainly provoked to a passion ; 
"And whatT' she exclaim'd, "shall the star of 
the ball 
Be seen by the beaux, in a gown of this fash- 
ion V— 
Away went the robe, — ribands, laces, and all ! 

" Oh ! Paphian goddess !" she sigh'd in despair, 
" Could I borrow that mystic and magical zone. 

Which Juno of old condescended to wear, 

And which lent her a witchery sweet as your 
own !" — 



74 VENUS AND THE MODERN BELLE. 

She said, and she started ; for lo ! in the glass, 
Beside her a shape of rich loveliness came ! 

She turn'd, — it was Venus herself! and the lass 
Stood blushing before her, in silence and shame. 

" Fair girl !" said the goddess — " the girdle you seek 
Is one you can summon at once, if you will ; 

It will wake the soft dimple and bloom of your cheek, 
And, with peerless enchantment, your flashing 
eyes fill. 

" No gem in your casket such lustre can lend, 
No silk wrought in silver, such beauty bestow ; 

With that talisman, heed not, tho' simply, my friend. 
Your robe and your ringlets unjewell'd may flow!" 

" Oh, tell it me ! give it me !" — Beauty exclaim'd, 
As Hope's happy smile to her rosy mouth stole : 
" Nay ! you wear it e'en now, since your temper is 
tamed, — 
'Tis the light of Good Humor, — that gem of the 
soul !" 



=<6 



THE FLOWER AND BROOK. 75 



THE FLOWER AND BROOK. 

The brook tripp'd by, with blossom and sigh, 
And soft in music-murmurs sung. 

While all the flowers that blossom'd nigh, 
Were hush'd to hear that silver tongue. 

" Ah, virgin violet !" breathed the brook, 
" Whose blue eye shuns the light, the air, 

I love you ! in this true heart look, 

And see — your own sweet image there !" 

The bashful violet bent her brow, 

But as she gazed, she sigh'd in sorrow, 

" Oh ! faithless heart — oh ! idle vow ! 
Beloved to-day, — betray'd to-morrow ! 

" What see I, in that heart of thine ] 

There's not a flower that blooms above thee. 

But there its image glows like mine. 

Yet, — false and light ! you say you love me ! 



76 THE FLOWER AND BROOK. 

" Go — changeful rover ! — wander free, 
With sunny glance, and voice beguiling, 

And take my fondest sigh with thee. 

To boast where other flowers are smiling ! 

" Go ! tell the lily and the rose. 

Of all the incense lavishM o'er thee ! 

Go — wake them from their pure repose, 
And bid them waste their blushes for thee ! 

" Go ! breathe to them the music low, 
Which all too oft beguiles the blossom ! 

But oh ! remember^ where you go. 

My latest breath was on your bosom !" 



THE STAR AND THE FLOWER. 77 



THE STAR AND THE FLOWER; 
OR, THE TWO PETS. 

" Ad ogni uccello, 
Suo nido 6 bello." 

Ah . yours, with her light-waving hair, 
That droops to her shoulders of snow, 

And her cheek, where the palest and purest of roses 
Most faintly and tenderly glow ! 

There is something celestial about her ; 

I never behold the fair child, 
Without thinking she's pluming invisible wings 

For a region more holy and mild. 

There is so much of pure seraph-fire 

Within the dark depths of her eye. 
That I feel a resistless and earnest desire 

To hold her for fear she should fly. 



--h 



78 THE STAR AND THE FLOWER. 

Her smile is as soft as a spirit's, — 

As sweet as a bird's is her tone ; 
She is fair as the silvery star of the morn, 

When it gleams thro' the gray mist alone. 

But mine is a simple wild-flower, 

A balmy and beautiful thing, 
That glows with new love and delight every hour, 

Thro' the tears and the smiles of sweet spring ! 

Her eyes have the dark brilliant azure 

Of heaven in a clear summer night, 
And each impulse of frolicsome, infantine joy, 

Brings a shy little dimple to light. 

Her young soul looks bright from a brow 
Too fair for earth's sorrow and shame ; 

Her graceful and glowing lip curls, even now. 
With a spirit no tyrant can tame. 

Then let us no longer compare 

These tiny, pet-treasures of ours ; 
For yours shall be loveliest still of the stars. 

And mine shall be fairest of jlowers. 



TO A FRIEND. 79 



TO A FRIEND. 

Oh, no I never deem her less worthy of love, 
That once she has trusted, and trusted in vain ! 

Could you turn from the timid and innocent dove, 
If it flew to your breast from a savage's chain 1 

She too is a dove, in her guileless aifection, 
A child in confiding and worshipping truth ; 

Half broken in heart, she has flown for protection 
To you, — will you chill the sweet promise of 
youth ] 

To a being so fragile, affection is life ! 

A rosebud, unbless'd by a smile from above, 
When with bloom and with fragrance its bosom is 
rife — 

A bee without sweets — she must perish or love ! 



=d 



80 TO A FRIEND. 



You have heard of those magical circles of flowers, 
Which in places laid waste by the lightning are 
found ; 
Where they say that the fairies have charm'd the 
night hours, 
With their luminous footsteps enriching the 
ground. 

Believe me — the passion she cherish'd of yore, 
That brought, like the storm-flash, at once on its 
wing 

Destruction and splendor, like that hurried o'er, 
And left in its track but the wild fairy-ring, — 

All rife with fair blossoms of fancy and feeling, 
And hope, that spring forth from the desolate 
gloom, 
And whose breath in rich incense is softly up-steal- 
ing, 
To brighten your pathway with beauty and bloom ! 



A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE. 81 



A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE. 

" Know ye the land," where they welcome the 
stranger, 
With heart as with hand, frank, confiding, sin- 
cere ; — 
Where the lonely, the languid, the sorrowing ranger. 
Like a brother, they watch over, cherish, and 
cheer ? 

Where a smile warm and radiant everywhere meets 
him. 
On earth, — in the air, — from the arch o'er his 
head, — 
And the sweetest, and purest, and gayest, that greets 
him, 
From the eyes of its own merry maidens, is shed ? 

" Know ye the land," in which nature is never 
Without some wild blossom to twine in her 
hand ] — 



82 A TRIBUTE OF GRATITUDE. 



In the hearts of its children 'tis summer forever, — 
The summer of love and joy : — " Know ye the 
land r' 

Where the gifted are met with a sympathy glow- 
ing 
As that which a diamond yields to the light, 
When it sends back the smile of the sunbeam, be- 
stowing 
New brilliance and bloom on the messenger 
bright ] 

That land, — in the eyes, in the souls of whose 
daughters 
Sleep all the rich glory and fire of its skies, 
Subdued, as when far in the depth of the wa- 
ters, 
To Heaven its own soften'd image replies 1 

There the bird, on whose bosom a rainbow is chang- 
ing— 
The Nonpareil — ^plays its soft plumage of blue ; 
And Beauty, — as matchless, — 'mid rare blossoms 
ranging, 
Beams, blushes, and warbles, — a Nonpareil too ! 



GARDEN GOSSIP. 83 

There the Lory and Oriole glance on gay pinion, 
There the regal Magnolia's snow-banners wave : — 

'Tis the land of the high-hearted, proud Carolinian, 
'Tis the land of the noble, — the bright, and the 
brave ! 



GARDEN GOSSIP, 
Accounting for the coolness between the lily and violet. 

" I WILL tell you a secret !" the honey-bee said, 
To a violet drooping her dew-laden head ; 
" The lily's in love ! for she listen'd last night, 
While her sisters all dept in the holy moonlight. 
To a zephyr that just had been rocking the rose, 
Where, hidden, I hearken'd in seeming repose. 

" I would not betray her to any but you ; 
But the secret is safe with a spirit so true, 
It will rest in your bosom in silence profound." 
The violet bent her blue eye to the ground ; 



© 



84 GARDEN GOSSIP. 



A tear and a smile in her loving look lay, 

While the light-winged gossip went whirring away. 

" I will tell you a secret !" the honey-bee said, 

And the young lily lifted her beautiful head ; 

" The violet thinks, with her timid blue eye, 

To pass for a blossom enchantingly shy. 

But for all her sweet manners, so modest and pure, 

She gossips with every gay bird that sings to her. 

" Now let me advise you, sweet flower ! as a friend, 
Oh ! ne'er to such beings your confidence lend ; 
It grieves me to see one, all guileless like you. 
Thus wronging a spirit so trustful and true : 
But not for the world, love, my secret betray !" 
And the little light gossip went buzzing away. 

A blush in the lily's cheek trembled and fled ; 

" I'm sorry he told me," she tenderly said ; 

" If I mayn't trust the violet, pure as she seems, 

I must fold in my own heart my beautiful dreams !" 

Was the mischief well managed ? Fair lady, is't 

true? 
Did the light garden gossip take lessons of you ? 



DOUBTFUL VOWS. 85 



DOUBTFUL VOWS. 



"By the starlight of thine eye, 
By thy soft cheek's changing dye, 
By the dimple dancing out, 
Peeping, playing round about, 
'Mid the roses — like a sprite 
In a garden of delight — " 

" Vow not thou by radiant eyes, 
Lo ! in tears their glory dies ; 
Nor by youth's enchanting flower, 
Roses die when summer's o'er ; 
Nor by dimples that must hide 
Soon as Sorrow comes to chide." 

" By the graceful waving braid, 
Half in light and half in shade. 



86 DOUBTFUL VOWS. 

Glittering gold or glossy brown, 
From thy forehead floating down ; 
By the neck it makes more white 
With its kisses soft and light — " 

" Vow not thou by gleams of gold 
Braided in a tress's fold ; 
Time will chase the light away, 
Time will change the gold to gray ; 
Vow not thou by tints of snow, 
Age will dim their virgin glow. 

" Vow by something holier far 
Than the charms of girlhood are ; 
Else, when rose and ray are fled, 
And the ringlet's gloss is dead, — 
Lost the dimple — dim the hue, 
Thy light vows will alter too." — 

" By the soul that fills thy face 
With its own immortal grace, 
Tuning glance, and step, and tone 
Into music all its own. 
Hallowing all thy grief and glee — 
By thy soul, I love but thee !" 



EARL Albert's bird. 87 



EARL ALBERT'S BIRD. 



A SCOTCH SONG. 



A GowDEN cage Earl Albert had, 
A peerless bird he kept within it ; 

A bird o' beauty rare and glad, 
But 'twas na robin, finch, or linnet. 

Earl Albert hung his cage wi' flowers, 
Wi' gems and silken gauds he deck'd it, 

And siller locks upon the doors — 

" 'Twould fly," said he, " I maun protect it !" 

Earl Albert thought his bird was tame. 
Because its sang was saft an' tender, — 

And Luti was its winsome name, 

And it was robed wi^ jewell'd splendor. 



88 EARL Albert's bird. 

The bonnie bird ! its radiant eyes, 
Its tones o' luve sae wildly pleading, 

The passer-by were more than wise 

Gin he could pass unharm'd — unheeding. 

And unco weel he luved his pet, 
And mickle care he had to guard it, 

For oh ! its glancing eyes o' jet 

Still watch'd the door altho' he'd barr'd it. 

" Ah ! gin you luve me, let me go 

And I'll come back !" sae warbled Luti. 

" Nay ! cauld without the wind doth blow, 
Ye're safer in your cage, my beauty." 

Just then a bairn cam tripping nigh, 

Wi' Iris wing and gowden quiver. 
He waited till the earl went by, 

Then cried, 'Til settle that forever !" 

Like lightning sped the sun-tipp'd shaft. 

The white breast heaved — the saft wings flut- 
ter'd. 

While saucy Luve delighted laugh'd — 

" She'll soon break prison now," he mutter'd. 



-6 



THE TALISMAN. 89 



Earl Albert cam when morning shone, 
New dainties for his darling bringing ; 

The door was wide ! the bird was flown ! 
And thus afar he heard her singing — 

" Oh ! gin ye'd ruled by luve alane, 
And gin ye'd left me free to fly, sir, 

Save by yer leave I had na gane, 

But tyrants^ bars I break or die, sir !" 



THE TALISMAN. 

My darling child ! beside my knee 

She lingers, pleading low 
For " just one more sweet fairy tale, 

And then I'll let you go !" 

" So listen, dear, and I will tell 
How once to man was given. 

An instrument so heavenly sweet 
'Twas thought it came from Heaven. 



=£=© 



=© 



90 THE TALISMAN. 



" So daintily its strings were wrought, 

So exquisitely fine, 
A breath from Him who made, could break 

The talisman divine. 

" So prompt, too, with its eloquent tones, 

This rare device they say, 
That, without touch of human hands, 

A wish could bid it play ! 

" In radiant Eden first 'twas heard, 

Harmonious, mild, and clear ; 
And at the sound, each singing-bird 

Its warble hush'd, to hear. 

" From thence, with varying melody, 

But never with a tone 
So pure, so free, as then it had, 

It pass'd from sire to son. 

" And now, in murmurs soft and low 

As rippling rills, it sang. 
And now with wild, impassion'd flow. 

Its clarion-music rang ! 



THE TALISMAN. 91 



" If Love or Pity tuned the string, 

Or Memory ask'd its aid, 
Sweet, pleading notes, the charmed thing 

In tender cadence play'd. 

" If Anger touch'd the quivering chords 

With trembling hand of fire, 
What demon-tones — what burning words 

Resounded from the lyre I 

" But oh ! when soft Forgiveness came, 
And o'er the discord sigh'd, — 

How like an angel's lute of love 
That fairy lyre replied ! 

" A fearful power the gift possess'd, 

A power for good or ill ; — 
Each passion of the human breast 

Could sweep the strings at will. 

" And it could melt to softest tears. 

Or madden into crime, 
The hearts that heard its thrilling strains. 

Wild, plaintive, or sublime. 



=(§) 



92 THE TALISMAN. 



" The oath within the murderer's heart, 
Fair childhood's sinless prayer, 

Hope's eager sigh, Affection's vow, 
All found an echo there ! 

" What pity, that a gift so rich, 

Attuned by love divine, 
Was thus profaned by impious man, 

At Guilt's unhallow'd shrine !'" 

Her eyes in innocent wonder raised. 

As gravely still I spoke ; 
The child into my face had gazed. 

But now the pause she broke : — 

" Oh ! were it mine, that wondrous toy. 
That but a wish could wake ! 

Mamma, 'twould be my pride, my joy, 
Soft melody to make ! 

" The evil spirits, tempting youth, 
Should ne'er approach my treasure, 

I'd keep it pure for Love, for Truth, 
For Pity, Hope, and Pleasure ! 



THE TALISMAN. 93 



" And they should play so blest a strain 

Upon th' enchanted lyre, 
That Heaven would claim it back again, 

To join its own sweet choir." 

" Keep, keep, my child, that promise still, 

' The wondrous toy' is thine ! 
E'en now thy spirit tuned it ; — 'tis 

" The human voice divine ! 

" Oh ! ask of Heaven to teach thy tongue 

A true, a reverent tone, — 
Full oft attuned to praise and prayer, 

And still to vice unknown ! 

" And rather be it mute for aye, 

Than yield its music sweet 
To Malice, Scorn, Impurity, 

To Slander, or Deceit ! 

" Degrade not thou the instrument 

That God has given to thee. 
But, till its latest breath be spent, 

Let Conscience keep the key /" 



94 " LOVE WILL NOT STAY TO BE WEIGHED." 



"LOVE WILL NOT STAY TO BE WEIGHED." 



The maiden in doubt, 

Said to Love, with a pout, 
" I shall weigh you with Wealth ere I take you !" 

" Ah !" said Cupid, " take care ! 

Little Beauty, beware ! 
Lest Love should forever forsake you !" 

She toss'd back her curls, 

Braided lightly with pearls, — 
" So saucy, young sir 1 I defy you !" 

Then in one scale she roll'd 

Half a million of gold, — 
" Come hither, you rogue ! let me try you !" 

Love sigh'd and Love smiled, 
Love's a singular child ; 
" Come, come now ! jump in !" said the maid ; 



ELLEN ARDELLE. 95 

But she coax'd him in vain ; 
For he flew from her chain, 
Singing — " Love will not stay to be weigh'd !" 

Then, since my heart's offer 
With Wealth's shining coffer 

You balance, — remember, fair maid ! 

It were idle — 'twere naught — 
It were not worth a thought, 

The love that would stay to be weigh'd ! 



ELLEN" ARDELLE. 



There were music and mirth in the lighted saloon ; 
The measure was merry, — our hearts were in tune, — 
While hand link'd with hand in the graceful qua- 
drille. 
Bright joy crown'd the dance, like the sun on the rill, 
And beam'd in the dark eyes of many a belle ; 
But the star of the ball-room was li^llen Ardolle ! 



96 ELLEN ARDELLE. 

She tripp'd with the grace of a wild forest fawn, 
Her locks wore the soft amber glow of the dawn, 
Her cheek, the rich flush of a sunset in May, 
And pure — like the star-light — her eyes' azure ray ; 
Light, light as a feather her fairy fcrot fell ; 
Oh! vision of loveliness ! Ellen Ardelle ! 

There are hundreds as brilliant, as graceful and 

fair ; 
But who, with so touching, so winning an air 1 
When softly she raises those eyes of deep blue. 
What soul can resist them 1 — I cannot, — can you 1 
Ah ! light heart ! beware the bewildering spell 
That lurks 'neath the lashes of Ellen Ardelle ! 

No jewel she needs, her young beauty to light ; 
Her glance would out-glow it, if ever so bright. 
Her blush is all feeling, — her smile is all love ; 
She is tender and faithful, and pure as the dove ; 
But timid and wild, like a mountain gazelle, — 
What fond hand shall tame her, — Young Ellen Ar- 
deUe? 



ZULEIKA. 97 



ZULEIKA. 



FROM THE SPANISH. 



A LADY in a light caique, 

Abdallah's youngest daughter, 
With Love's blush-rose upon her cheek, 

Look'd o'er the moonlit water. 

Her snow-soft hand in Selim's lay, 

Her heart was wildly beating, 
But still her dark eyes turn'd away 

To watch the shore retreating. 

" Nay, look not there, my trembling dove !" 
Young Selim cried in sorrow, — 

" My bride to-night, by Allah, love, 
I'll bear thee back to-morrow !" 



98 ZULEIKA. 

" Too late !" the lady sigh'd, " oh ! now^ 

If thou dost prize Zuleika, 
Turn back ! — point home thy shallop's prow, 

Ere those forsaken seek her ! 

" When first my lips their light assent 

To this light folly falter'd, 
Love, only Love, his rainbow lent, 

And still it smiles unalter'd. 

" But oh ! thro' tears of grief and shame 
It glows ; turn back, my bravest ! 

And blessings from Abdallah claim, 
For her whose truth thou savest !" 

Young Selim bent his lightning eyes 
Back o'er the wild, blue water, — 

With quivering lip he thus replies, 
To old Abdallah's daughter : — 

" Tis done, Zuleika ! lo ! we turn, 

But never dream of Heaven 
So fair to Moslem's eye did burn. 

As that which thou hast riven !" 



©^ 



LOVE AND LOGIC. 99 



At fierce Abdallah's feet they knelt, 
And own'd the vows they'd plighted ; 

His soften'd heart the story felt, 
His hand their hands united. 

And long did Selim bless the hour 
That saw his Moorish beauty, 

So meekly lay love's passion-flower 
Upon the shrine of duty ! 



LOVE AND LOGIC. 

The gods one day sent Reason out, 
To look for Love, — their truant-boy ! 

They bade her seek him all about, 

And lure him home with tempting toy. 

She found him in a rosebud rock'd, 
She begg'd him to be back in season ; 

But still the boy the maiden mock'd. 
For — Love will never list to Reason ! 



=Q 



\00 LOVE AND LOGIC, 



The goddess held a jewel up, 

With Heaven's own glory flashing thro' it ; — 
" Nay ! see my Rose's blushing cup !" 

Said Love, — " Your gem is nothing to it !" 

" For shame ! false boy ! must^brce be tried 1 
Is't thus you waste this precious season V 

" Take care ! d'ye know this bow 1" he cried ! 
Ah ! Love too oft has conquered Reason I — 

" I see your aim ! — your rhetoric speeds 
On proud Olympus ill without me ; 

But happy Love no Reason needs ! 

Begone ! and when they ask about me, 

" Just tell them, in my Rose's heart 
I've found so dear — so pure a treasure, 

I grudge them not Minerva's art. 

Or laughing Hebe's cup of pleasure !" 

The maid had not a word to say, — 

She knew the rogue was talking treason, — 

But back to Ida bent her way ; 

For — Love can better plead than Reason I 



^A 



TO LItVlE may VINCENT. 101 



TO LITTLE MAY VnNTCENT. 

My wee-bit, bonny, blue-eyed May ! 

Well fits the name we gave in play ; 

For Spring, with all her tears and smiles. 

Her frolic frowns and wooing wiles. 

Is just like thee — so fresh, so bright. 

With breath of balm and eyes of light. 

My treasure, May ! my nestling dove ! 

My wild-flower, nursed by Hope and Love ! 

My sunlit gem ! my morning star ! 

Oh ! there is nothing near or far, 

Of soft or beautiful or free, 

That does not mind my heart of thee. 

Yet all combined, — star, blossom, bird, 

Bring to it no such joy divine, 
As the first charily-utter'd word 

That falters from those lips of thine. 

9* 



=@ 



102 TO LITTLE MAY VINCENT. 

Twelve times the maiden-queen of night 
Has donn'd her veil of silver light, 
And walk'd the silent, heavenly plain, 
Majestic 'mid her radiant train, 
Since May first ope'd her playful eyes ; 
And yet she is not over-wise ; 
For even now she shouts with joy 

When on the floor the sunshine plays, 
And deems the spot a golden toy, 

And creeps to lift its mocking rays. 

Ah, May ! be still a child in this, 
Through life, amid its gloom and bliss, 
Though clouds of care be all about. 
Those eyes will find the sunshine out, 
Then pass the shade with Hope's delight, 
And stop to play where Joy is bright. 



® 



A SONG. 



103 



A SONG. 

Braid not the jewel, 
Love, in thy hair ! 

For such adornment 
Thou art too fair. 

Suits not the diamond 

Tresses so light, 
Floating like golden mist, 

Changefully bright. 



Weave its wild lustre 
Thro' the dark braids, 

Whose raven cluster 
Helen's eye shades ! 

There will its splendor 

Fittingly play ; 
Thou art too tender 

For such array. 



=o 



104 A SONG. 



Take this white rose, love, 

Stainless as thou, 
Let it repose, love. 

By thy fair brow ! 

And as its fragrance 

Softly steals by, 
Sweet as thy balmy breath, 

Pure as thy sigh. 

Think of the lover, 
In whose fond sight, 

No gem of Ophir 

Makes thee more bright ! 



SHE LOVES HIM YET." 105 



"SHE LOVES HIM YET!" 



She loves him yet ! 
I know by the blush that rises 

Beneath the curls 
That shadow her soul-lit cheek ; 

She loves him yet ! 
Thro' all Love's sweet disguises 

In timid girls, 
A blush will be sure to speak. 

But deeper signs 
Than the radiant blush of beauty, 

The maiden finds, 
Whenever his name is heard ; — 

Her young heart thrills. 
Forgetting herself — her duty — 

Her dark eye fills. 
And her pulse with hope is stirr'd. 



106 



SHE LOVES HIM YET. 



I 



She loves him yet ! 
The flower the false one gave her 

When last he came, 
Is still with her wild tears wet. 

She'll ne'er forget, 
Howe'er his faith may waver, 

Thro' grief and shame. 
Believe it — she loves him yet ! 



. His favorite songs 
She will sing — she heeds — no other ; 

With all her wrongs 
Her life on his love is set. 

Oh ! doubt no more ! 
She never can wed another : 

Till life be o'er, 
She loves — she will love him yet ' 



THE lily's reply. 107 



THE LILY'S REPLY. 

The Rose-queen to a Lily said, — 
" You bashful thing ! hold up your head ! 
Since Heaven has lavish'd beauty, grace, 
And fragrance, on your form and face, 
Why waste it on the coarse dull earth ■? 
Look up to Him who gave you birth. 
See me ! I lift my glowing cheek, 
The holiest airs of heaven to seek. 

" Free from my ' heart of heart' I give, 

(The Rose with Shakspeare held commune,) 

Up to yon skies that bade me live. 
My incense, like a low-breathed tune. 

Lily ! look up ! 'tis pleasant weather ! 

Let's brave this changing world together !" 

The Lily to the Rose replied, — 
" I dare not hold so lofty pride : 



108 



Befits in fair, as stormy weather, 

That I and Meekness bend together ; 

For they who lift too high their heads, 

When Heaven her sunshine o'er them sheds, 

Too low beneath the tempest lie, 

Forgetful of Love's sleepless eye. 

And He who gave me sweetness — grace, 

Bestow'd as well my fitting place : 

And most I show my grateful care, 

By yielding earth what I may spare ; 

And best to Him his gifts return, 

By shedding round me, here below, 
The wealth th9,t fills my fragile urn ; 

He knows how true I thank Him so !" 



"HAPPY AT HOME." 



Let the gay and the idle go forth where they will, 
In search of soft Pleasure, that syren of ill ; 
Let them seek her in Fashion's illumined saloon, 
Where Melody mocks at the heart out of tune ; 



"happy at home. 109 

Where the laugh gushes light from the lips of the 

maiden, 
While her spirit, perchance, is with sorrow o'erla- 

den ; 
And where, 'mid the garlands Joy only should braid, 
Is Slander, the snake, hy its rattle betray'd, 
Ah ! no ! let the idle for happiness roam, 
For me — I but ask to be happy at home !" 

At home ! oh, how thrillingly sweet is that word ! 
And by it what visions of beauty are stirr'd ! 
I ask not that Luxury curtain my room 
With damask from India's exquisite loom ; 
The sunlight of heaven is precious to me. 
And muslin will veil it if blazing too free ; 
The elegant trifles of Fashion and Wealth 
I need not — I ask but for comfort and health ! 
With these and my dear ones — I care not to roam. 
For, oh ! I am happy, most " happy at home !" 

One bright little room where the children may play, 
Unfearfal of spoiling the costly array ; 
Where he, too — our dearest of all on the earth, 
May find the sweet welcome he loves at his hearth ; 

10 



110 " HAPPY AT H0MJ3." 

The fire blazing warmly — the sofa drawn nigh ; 
And the star-lamp alight on the table close by ; 
A few sunny pictures in simple frames shrined, 
A few precious volumes — the wealth of the mind ; 
And here and there treasured some rare gem of art, 
To kindle the fancy or soften the heart ; 
Thus richly surrounded, why, why should I roam 1 
Oh ! am I not happy — most " happy at home 1" 

The little ones, weary of books and of play, 
Nestle down on our bosoms — our Ellen and May ! 
And softly the simple, affectionate prayer. 
Ascends in the gladness of innocence there ; 
And now ere they leave us, sweet kisses and light 
They lavish, repeating their merry " good-night !" 
While I with my needle, my book, or my pen, 
Or in converse with him, am contented again. 
And cry — " Can I ever be tempted to roam. 
While blessings like these make me happy at 
home V 



■Q 



HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND. Ill 



HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND. 

Our cot was in a forest glade, 

Where sunbeams stole to mock the shade, 

And wild-flowers round the lattice play'd, 

By beam and breeze caress'd : 
And in our Mary's form and face 
Was all the blossom's glowing grace ; 
A lovely human flower was she ; 
Nay, more a bird in tireless glee, 

The darling of the nest ! 
She came an orphan to our wild ; 
But fondly on her kinsman's child 
My mother her true welcome smiled, 

And so our home was blest. 

Yet I, alas ! unconscious then 
How rich within our woodland glen 



112 



HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND. 



Were we, afar from world-worn men, 
For gaudier pleasures pined : 

For I had seen, in dreams at night, 

A being lovely as the light. 

With eyes like heaven, of changeful blue. 

And hair that gleams of gold stole through. 
And lips in dimples shrined. 

Her name was Happiness, she said ; 

And soon by blind Ambition led, 

I left our lowly love-warm'd shed, 
To seek this maiden kind. 



I sought her far — I sought her wide — 
I sought her in the halls of pride ; 
Her angel smile was still denied, 

Where gems less lovely shone. 
I ask'd of Fame her fairest crown : — 
With mocking laugh she cast it down. 
No spell was in the wreath, tho' fair, 
To win the maid with golden hair ; 

And I was all alone. 
I ask'd of Wealth his coffers' key : 
He smiled, and flung them wide to me, 
The glittering treasure, far and free, 

I lavish'd. — Soon 'twas flown. 



HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND. 113 

It bought me rank ; — it bought me power ; — 
It bought me Pleasure's fleeting flower, 
And many a plaything of an hour : 

Ah, me ! 'twas little worth ! 
It could not buy that being fair, 
The vision with the shining hair ; 
No ! far from me her low sweet lay 
Young Joy was warbling all the day, 

While I o'er half the earth 
Went wandering for her looks of light. 
At length I wearied of the sight 
Of palace-halls. I dream'd one night 

Of her who gave me birth. 

And coldly on the morrow-morn, 
With sorrow in my soul and scorn, 
I sought the glen where I was born, — 

How holy seem'd the air ! 
The wild-flower with its early glow 
Still lightly laced the lattice low ; 
Still sang the rill ; — the forest trees 
Bent as of old beneath the breeze. 

And all was free and fair. 
The Zephyr with its breath of balm, 
The sunshine smiling soft and calm, 

10* 



114 HAPPINESS LOST AND FOUND. 

Wrought in my very heart a charm, 
And made it Summer there. 

Some dreamy moments pass'd before 
My trembling- hand unlatch'd the door, 
And T beneath that roof once more 

Stood silent with delight. 
My mother welcomed back her boy ; 
My bashful Mary blush'd her joy ; 
And folding to my heart the prize 
That now seem'd dearest in mine eyes. 

And loveliest and most bright, 
I saw again the vision fair, 
The maiden with the radiant hair ; 
For Joy and I had parted there^ 

As there we met that night ! 

Ah ! many a youth will search like me, 
Will roam the land and cross the sea 
In quest of Happiness, while she 

Sits all the while unseen 
Beside the very hearth he leaves, 
And there her golden web she weaves. 
Perchance array'd in lowly guise. 



=© 



KEEP, KEEP THE MAIDEN's DOWRY. 115 

But Still with heaven-illumined eyes, 

And frank and smiling mien. 
We fondest prize the gem we miss ; 
We pine for absent friendship's kiss ; 
We know not, till we lose, the bliss 

That dwells at home serene. 



KEEP, KEEP THE MAIDEN'S DOWRY. 

A DISTINGUISHED NOBLEMAN REFUSED A DOWRY WITH HIS BRIDE- 
THK INCIDENT SUGGESTED THE FOLLOWING LINES. 

Keep, keep the maiden's dowry, 
And give me but my bride, — • 

Not for her wealth I woo her, 
Not for her station's pride ; 

She is a treasure in herself — 
Worth all the world beside. 

Is not her mind a palace. 
Wherein are riches rare, 



=© 



116 KEEP, KEEP THE MAIDEN's DOWRY. 

Bright thoughts that flash like jewels, 

And golden fancies fair, 
And glowing dreams of joy and hope, 

That make sweet pictures there ? 

Keep, keep my lady's dowry, 
Her hand, her heart I claim ; 

That little hand is more to me 
Than power, rank, or fame ; 

That heart's pure love is wealth, my lord. 
No more your coffers name ! 

No statue in your proud saloon 
Can match her form of grace. 

No gem that lights your casket 
The radiance of her face. 

In giving her, you give me all 
I covet in earth's space. 

Oh ! make her mine, your idol child ! 

To be my prize and pride, 
My star in every festival. 

My trust should wo betide. 
My bower's loveliest blossom, 

Mine own, my worshipp'd bride. 



— 0> 

THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 117 



THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 

Fair Flora of late has become such a blue, 

She has sent all her pretty dumb children to 
school ; 
And though strange it may seem, what I tell you is 
true, 
Already they've learn'd French and English by 
rule. 

Bud, blossom, and leaf, have been gifted with speech, 
And eloquent lips breathing love in each tone. 

Delighting such beautiful pupils to teach, 

Have lent them a language as sweet as their own. 

No more is the nightingale's serenade heard ; 

For Flora exclaims, as she flies through her 
bowers, 



118 THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 

" It is softer than warble of fairy or bird ! 

'Tis the music of soul — the sweet language of 
flowers !" 

No longer the lover impassion'd bestows 

The pearl or the ruby ; — in Hope's sunny hours 

He twines for his maiden a myrtle and rose — 
'Tis the echo of Love, the pure language of 
flowers. 

But the pearl and the ruby are sadly dismay'd ; 

I saw a fair girl lay them lightly aside, 
And blushingly wreathe, in her hair's simple braid, 

The white orange flower that betray'd her a bride; 

And I fancied I heard the poor jewels bewail. 

At least they changed countenance strangely, I'm 
sure ; 
For the pearl blush'd with shame, and the ruby 
turn'd pale : — 
Indeed 'twas too much for a stone to endure. 

And I, who had ever a passion for gems, 

From the diamond's star-smile to the ruby's deep 
flame ; 

b -^ 



THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 119 

And who envy kings only their bright diadems, 
Resolved to defend them from undeserved shame. 

What are jewels but flowers that never decay, 

With a glow and a glory unfading as fair 1 
And why should not they speak their minds if they 
may 1 
There are " sermons in stones," as all sages de- 
clare. 

ft 

And a wild " tongue of flame" wags in some of them 
too, 
That would talk if you'd let it — so listen awhile ; 
They've a world of rich meaning in every bright 
hue — 
A ray of pure knowledge in each sunny smile. 

Then turn to the blossoms that never decay : — 
Let the learned flowers talk to themselves on their 
stems, 

Or prattle away with each other to-day ; — 
And listen with me to the Language of Gems. 

The Diamond emblem of Genius would seem. 
In its glance, like the lightning, wild, fitful, divine — 



120 THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 

Its point that can pierce, with a meteor-gleam, 
Its myriad colors — its shadow and shine. 

And more in that magic, so dazzling and strange ; 

Let it steal from Apollo but one sunny ray. 
It will beam back a thousand that deepen and change, 

Till you'd fancy a rainbow within it at play. 

Fair Truth's azure eyes, that were lighted in heaven, 
Have brought to the Sapphire their smile from 
above, 

And the rich glowing ray of the Ruby is given. 
To tell as it blushes of passionate Love. 

The Chrysolite, clouded, and gloomy, and cold, 
Its dye from the dark brow of Jealousy steals. 

But bright in the Crystal's fair face we behold 
The image of Candor that nothing conceals. 

Young Hope, like the spring, in her mantle of green, 
Comes robed in that color, soft, pleasant, and 
tender. 
And lends to the Emerald light so serene. 

That the eye never wearies of watching its splen- 
dor. 



THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 121 

The rosy Cornelian resembles the flush 
That faintly illumines a beautiful face, 

And well in its lovely and tremulous blush 
May Fancy the emblem of Modesty trace. 

While Joy's golden smile in the Topaz is glowing, 
And Purity dwells in the delicate Pearl, 

The Opal, each moment new semblances showing, 
May shine on the breast of some changeable girl. 

Serene as the Turquoise, Content ever calm, 

In her pure heart reflects heaven's fairest hue 
bright, 

Wliile Beauty, exulting in youth's sunny charm. 
Beholds in the Beryl her image of light. 

To the beaming Carbuncle, whose ray never dies. 
The rare gift of shining in darkness is given ; 

So Faith, with her fervent and shadowless eyes, 
Looks up, through Earth's night-time of trouble, 
to heaven. 

There's a stone — the Asbestos — that, flung in the 
flame. 
Unsullied comes forth with a color more pure, — 

11 



^ 



122 



THE LANGUAGE OF GEMS. 



Thus shall Virtue, the victim of sorrow and shame, 
Refined by the trial, forever endure. 

Resplendent in purple, the Amethyst sparkling, 
On Pride's flowing garments may haughtily glow. 

While Jet, the lone mourning-gem, shadow'd and 
darkling. 
And full of sad eloquence, w^hispers of Wo. 

But thousands are burning beneath the dark wave. 
As stars through the tempest-cloud tremblingly 
smile, 

Or wasting their wealth in some desolate cave. 
And talking, perchance, like the rest all the while. 

Then wreathe of the blossoms that never decay, 
A chaplet, dear maiden, that fair brow above. 

But within, wear their prototypes, purer than they. 
Faith — Hope — Truth and Innocence — Modesty — 
Love. 

And while in each jewel a lesson you see, 

While one smiles approval — another condemns, 

I'm sure you will listen, delighted with me. 

To a language so true as the language of Gems ! 



b-- 



THE lover's list. 123 



THE LOVER'S LIST. 



" Come, sit on this bank so shady, 

Sweet Evelyn, sit with me ! 
And count me your loves, fair lady ! 

How many may they be ]" 

The maiden smiled on her lover. 
And traced with her dimpled hand, 

Of names, a dozen and over, 
Down in the shining sand. 

" And now," said Evelyn, rising, 

" Sir Knight ! your own, if you please ; 

And if there be no disguising, 
The list will out-number these. 



124 THE lover's list. 

" Then count me them truly, rover !" 

And the noble knight obey'd, 
And of names, a dozen and over 

He traced within the shade. 

Fair Evelyn pouted proudly ; 

She sigh'd — " Will he never have done T' 
And at last she murmur'd loudly, 

" I thought he would write but one .'" 

" Now read !" — said the gay youth, rising — 
" The scroll, — it is fair and free. 

In truth there is no disguising. 
That list is the world to me !" 

She read it with joy and wonder. 

For the first was her own sweet name. 

And again and again written under. 
It was still — it was still the same ! 

It began with — " my Evelyn fairest !" 
It ended with — " Evelyn best !" 

And epithets fondest and dearest 

Were lavish'd between on the rest. — 



THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE. 125 



There were tears in the eyes of the lady 
As she swept, with her delicate hand, 

On the river- bank cool and shady, 
The list she had traced in the sand. 

There were smiles on the lip of the maiden 
As she turn'd to her knight once more. 

And the heart was with joy o'erladen, 
That was heavy with doubt before ! 



@= 



THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE ; 

OR, WATER-STAR. 

" Nothing in them, that doth range, 
But must suffer a sea-change 
Into something new and strange."— Shakspeare. 

'Tis night— and the luminous depths of heaven 

With urns of fire are lit, 
Each borne in a viewless spirit's hand, 

Who lightly floats with it. 

n» 



126 THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE. 

And Dian — the queen of that graceful train, 

Sails by in her silver shell, 
While softly rises the choral strain, 

With a rich and joyous swell 

Now, voice by voice they are dying away, 

Till all save one are still. 
And that sings on with a cadence glad, 

Like the gush of a rippling rill. 

It comes from one of the beauteous seven, 

The Pleiades pure and bright. 
Who keep more fondly than all in heaven, 

Unstain'd their urns of light. 

She sings, as she bends o'er her burning vase, 
And she sees in the wave below 

Her beaming smile, and her form of grace. 
And her soft hair's golden flow. 

But hark ! a voice from the waters clear. 

And the Pleiad leans to listen, 
With a glowing cheek and a charmed ear, 

And eyes that tenderly glisten. 



<b 



^- 



THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE. 127 

" Daughter of light ' 

I pine, I pine, 
By day and night, 

For thy smile divine ! 

" Oh ! radiant maid, 

My dwelling share ! 
Our nymphs shall braid 

Thy shining hair. 

" And I will keep 

Thy star-urn pure, 
While thou shalt sleep 

In joy secure. 

" Where stately stands 

My coral hall. 
On golden sands 

Thy feet shall fall. 

" From rosy shell 

Thy rosier lip. 
Where dimples dwell, 

Shall nectar sip ; 



128 THE BIRTH OF THE CALLITRICHE. 

" And the tremulous play 

Of purest pearls. 
With a pale soft ray 

Shall gem thy curls. 



" Oh, the wave is fair 

And mild and blue, 
As the azure air 

Thou wanderest through ! 

" Then, loveliest far 

Of Atlas' daughters, 
Bless with thy star 

Our limpid waters !" 

Wild and sweet was the lay of love, 

Upborne on the balmy air. 
And the Pleiad stole from her bower above. 

To gaze in the waters fair. 

Ah ! fatal gaze ! for so fondly smiled 
Those eyes from the stream below. 

She plunged, and the lamp of her heavenly life 
Went out in its vase of snow. 



A MAY-DAY SONG. 129 

But light to the element's edge sprang up, 

A starry shape in bloom, 
A strange wild flower in a fairy cup, 

That shone in the water's gloom : 

And they say the penitent Pleiad's tears 

Still feed that star of the wave, 
As of old her smiles in holier spheres 

To the Urn their pure light gave. 



A MAY-DAY SONG-. 

Yes ! thou shalt wear the wreath we are merrily 
braiding, 
Of buds and blooms — the beautiful roses of Spring ! 
Amid the hair, thy forehead of snow o'ershading, 
'Twill mock the blush that steals to thy cheek as 
we sing. 



130 THE PARTING. 



For thee we twine ; — for who could so gracefully 
wear it 
As she, whose heart is lovely and pure as the 
rose ; 
The wreath is thine, and the happiness each of us 
share it, 
For thou art so meek no envy can mar thy repose. 



THE PARTING. 



I look'd not — I sigh'd not — I dared not betray 
The wild storm of feeling that strove to have way, 
For I knew that each sign of the sorrow / felt 
Her soul to fresh pity and passion would melt. 
And calm was my voice, and averted my eyes, 
As I parted from all that in being I prize. 

I pined but one moment that form to enfold, 
Yet the hand that touch'd hers like the marble was 
cold. — 



ASPIRATIONS. 131 



I heard her voice falter a timid fai-ewell, 

Nor trembled, tho' soft on my spirit it fell, 

And she knew not— she dream'd not the anguish of 

soul 
Which only my pity for her could control. 

It is over,— the loveliest dream of delight 
That ever illumined a wanderer's night ! 
Yet one gleam of comfort will brighten my. way, 
Tho' mournful and desolate ever I stray : 
It is this, that to her— to my idol, I spared 
The pang, that her love could have soften'd and 
shared ! 



ASPIRATIONS. 

I WASTE no more in idle dreams my life, my soul 
away ; 

I wake to know my better self,— I wake to watch 
and pray. 

& 



!i 

132 ASPIRATIONS. 

Thought, feeling, time, on idols vain, I've lavish'd 

all too long : 
Henceforth to holier purposes I pledge myself, my 

song ! 

Oh ! still within the inner veil, upon the spirit's shrine, 
Still unprofaned by evil, burns the one pure spark 

divine 
Which God has kindled in us all, and be it mine to tend 
Henceforth with vestal thought and care, the light 

that lamp may lend. 

I shut mine eyes in grief and shame upon the dreary 

past, 
My heart, my soul pour'd recklessly on dreams that 

could not last. 
My bark has drifted down the stream, at will of wind 

or wave, 
An idle, light, and fragile thing, that few had cared 

to save. 

Henceforth the tiller Truth shall hold, and steer as 

Conscience tells, 
And I will brave the storms of Fate, tho' wild the 

ocean swells. 



©= 



A SONG. 133 

I know my soul is strong and high, if once I give it 

sway; 
I feel a glorious power within, tho' light I seem and 

gay. 

Oh ! laggard soul ! unclose thine eyes. No more 

in luxury soft 
Of joy ideal waste thyself! awake, and soar aloft ! 
Unfurl this hour those falcon wings which thou dost 

fold too long ; 
Raise to the skies thy lightning gaze, and sing thy 

loftiest song. 



A SONG. 

I turn'd from the monitor, — smiled at the warning 
That whisper'd of doubt — of desertion to me ; 

I heard of thy falsehood, the dark rumor scorning, 
I gave up the soul of my soul unto thee ! 

12 



^ 

134 THE " FAIRER FLOWER." 



Too wildly I worshipp'd thy mind-illumed beauty ; 

Too fondly I cherish'd my dream of thy truth ; 
Forgetting, in thee, both my pride and my duty, 

I made thee the god of my passionate youth ! 

And dearly and deeply I rue that devotion, — 

Thou hast broken the heart that beat only for thee ! 

Not even thy voice can now wake an emotion ; 
I am calm as thyself while I bid thee " be free !" 



THE " FAIRER FLOWER." 

" Oh ! are they not most bright and fair ?" 

The youthful lady cried ; 
And pointed to her blossoms rare 

With playful love and pride. 

The soft moss-rose with veiled bloom, 
Droops o'er the hands that tie it ; 



=© 



THE "fairer flower." 135 

The lily lends its light perfume, 
The woodbine clusters by it. 

But on the lady's lovely face, 

A blush out-blooms the rose ; 
And 'neath the hand that clasps the vase, 

Less fair the lily shows. 

A soldier true and brave was he, 

And crown'd with loftiest honor ; 
He bent his dark and dauntless eyes 

With soften'd gaze upon her — 

" Dear lady, yes ! 'tis well the bower 

Its loveliest lends to thee, 
But / can show a fairer flower 

If thou'lt but come with me !" 

She gave her hand with artless grace. 
She cross'd the room half dreaming ; 

And there he show'd her own sweet face 
Within the mirror beaming ! 



136 LENORE. 



LENORE. 

Oh ! fragile and fair, as the delicate chalices, 
Wrought with so rare and so subtle a skill, 

Bright relics, that tell of the pomp of those palaces, 
Venice — the sea-goddess — ^glories in still. 

Whose exquisite texture, transparent and tender, 
A pure blush alone from the ruby wine takes ; 

Yet ah ! if some false hand, profaning its splendor, 
Dares but to taint it with poison, — it breaks ! 

So when Love pour'd thro' thy pure heart his light- 
ning, 

On thy pale cheek the soft rose-hues awoke, — 
So when wild Passion, that timid heart frightening, 

Poison'd the treasure — it trembled and broke ! 



THE soul's lament FOR HOME. 137 



THE SOUL'S LAMENT FOR HOME. 

As 'plains the home-sick ocean-shell 

Far from its own remember'd sea, 
Repeating-, like a fairy spell 

Of love, the charmed melody 
It learn'd within that whispering wave. 

Whose wondrous and mysterious tone 
Still wildly haunts its winding cave 

Of pearl, with softest music-moan — 

So asks my home-sick soul below, 

For something loved, yet undefined ; 
So mourns to mingle with the flow 

Of music, from the Eternal Mind ; 
So murmurs, with its child-like sigh, 

The melody it learn'd above. 
To which no echo may reply. 

Save from thy voice, Celestial Love ! 



13* 



138 THE FLOWER AND HUMMING-BIRD. 



THE FLOWER AND THE HUMMING-BIRD. 

Wild and light as a fawn in flight, 

With the glee and the grace of a playful child, 
She tripp'd to the hill's unclouded height, 

And the dying day around her smiled. 

Sunbeam and breeze were at play with her hair, 
(Where a few wild blossoms were braided low,) 

Wooing it back from her shoulders fair, 
Lighting it up with a golden glow. 

And lo ! as we gazed on the beautiful girl 
With the joy that we ever from grace derive. 

We saw something quiver thro' one soft curl, 
And struggle and gleam like a jewel alive ! 

What can it be 1 For a moment or two 
It burn'd with a brilliant ruby-ray, 



THE FLOWER AND HUMMING-BIRD. 139 

The next, it shone with the sapphire's blue, 
And now with the amethyst's purple play ! 

What can it be ? It is changing- still 

To an emerald tint — to the sunshine's glow — 

Can the maiden alter her gems at will 1 
And gift with wings each luminous show 1 

With wings — they are fluttering, tiny, and light, 
Like those which we fancy the fairies wear — 

Ah ! look I the treasure has taken flight, 

'Twas a humming-bird caught in that golden 
snare ! 

Silly rover ! you fly from those silken rings. 
Where Love — a light prisoner — hugs his chain ! 

Oh, you never will shut your shining wings 
On a flower so rare and sweet again ! 



g) @ 



140 THE suitor's reply. 



THE SUITOR'S REPLY 

TO THE MAIDEN WHO WISHED TO RETURN HIS GIFT. 

Yes ! I implore — upon my knee — 
Return the costly gift to me ! 
Not that ! — the gem, whose light I prize 
Less than one smile from thy dear eyes ! 

You say 'tis all too rich and rare 
For lowly maid like you to wear, 
I've given you one more costly still — 
Return me that, dear ! Say you will ! 

Its lustre will outlast the star 
That burns before us, pure and far, 
Return me that — all gems above ! 
Yes, Margaret, yes ! Return — my love ! 



=<9 



TO . 141 



TO 



They told me Beauty o'er thy face 
Had breathed her rarest, richest spell, 

And lightly twined an airy grace 
In every curl that round it fell. 

We met — and 'neath the veil of light 
And bloom that Beauty round thee flung, 

I found a charm of holier might, 

For Love had tuned thy heaven-taught tongue. 

'Tis said in Erin's sunny isle. 

That they who wear the shamrock leaf, 
A blessing bring where'er they smile, 

That lights and warms the wildest grief. 

Hast thou within thy bosom hid 

The charmed flower from Erin's shore, 

Which some fond fairy found amid 
Her blooming fields, and hither bore ] 



® =- — — --Q 

142 HYMN. 

Ah, no ! within those dark-hlue eyes, 

Those graceful words, that winning smile, 

A deeply sweet enchantment lies. 
Beyond the spell from Erin's isle ! 

Thou dost not need the charmed flower, 
Thou dost not need the fairy's art ; 

In feeling dwells thy magic power, 
The leaf of love is in thy heart ! 



HYMN. 



Approach not the altar 
With gloom in thy soul ; 

Nor let thy feet falter 
From terror's control ! 

God loves not the sadness 
Of fear and mistrust : 

Oh serve Him with gladness- 
The Gentle, the Just ! 



HYMN. 



143 



His bounty is tender, 

His being is Love, — 
His smile fills with splendor 

The blue arch above. 

Confiding, believing, 

Oh ! enter always 
" His courts with thanksgiving — 

His portals with praise !" 

Nor come to the temple 
With pride in thy mien ; 

But lowly and simple. 
In courage serene. 

Bring meekly before Him 

The faith of a child : 
Bow down and adore him, 

With heart undefiled ; 

And " by the still waters," 
And through the green shade, 

With Zion's glad daughters, 
Thy path shall be made I 



144 TO 



TO . 

They tell me I was false to thee, 
But they are false who say it ; 

The vow I made was pure and free, 
And time shall ne'er betray it. 

I laid my heart on virtue's shrine, 
I loved truth, honor, kindness ; 

I love them still, I thought them thine, 
Too soon I wept my blindness. 

'Tis thou wert false to them and me, 

My worship still I cherish ; 
My love, still true, has turn'd from thee, 

To find them or to perish. 



THE WORLD-WORN LYRE. 145 



THE WORLD-WORN LYRE. 

Love ! no more, with soul of fire, 
Sweep the strings and sound the lyre ! 
All too wild the sad refrain, 
When thy touch awakes the strain. 
Thou henceforth must veil thy face 
With its blush of childish grace. 
Still thy sweet entrancing tone, 
Fold thy wings and weep alone. 

Mirth ! oh ! ne'er again come thou 
With thy careless, cloudless brow, 
With thy frolic-fingers flying, 
Lightly o'er the lyre replying, 
Making music, like a smile, 
Glisten thro' its strings the while. 
Thou and I, gay sprite ! must part, — 
Go thou to some happier heart ! 

Lyre ! amid whose chords my soul, 
Lull'd, enchanted, proudly stole. 



13 



146 THE WORLD-WORN LYRE. 

Folly, Vanity, and Mirth, 
Long have tuned thy tones to earth, — 
I will take thee, hush'd and holy. 
Changed in heart, and sad and lowly, 
Into Nature's mother-breast ; 
There Pll lay thee down to rest. 

There her harmony shall blend 

All its soul with thine, sweet friend ! 

Silent lie upon her shrine 

Till some spirit more divine, 

Mission'd from its home to thee, 

Teach a holier melody ; 

Then, awaked by airs of heaven, 

Be thy discord all forgiven ! 

Meekly let thy music low 
With creation's chorus flow. 
With the music of the spheres. 
Into listening angels' ears ! 
Let, henceforth, thy sweetest lays 
Be attuned to prayer and praise. 
And naught earth-born e'er again 
Thee, my pleading lyre, profane ! 



A SONG. 147 



SONG. 

I CANNOT forget him ! 

I've lock'd up my soul ; 
But not till his image 

Deep, deep in it stole. 

I cannot forget him ! 

The Future can cast 
No flower before me 

So sweet as the Past. 

I turn to my books ; 

But his voice rich and rare, 
Is blent with the genius 

That speaks to me there. 

I tune my wild lyre, 

But I think of the praise, 
Too precious, too dear, 

Which he lent to my lays ! 



148 A SONG. 

I cannot forget him ! 

I try to be gay, 
To quell the wild sorrow 

That rises alway ; 

But wilder and darker 
It swells, as I try ; 

If Heaven could forget him, 
So never can I ! 

I cannot forget him ! 

I loved him too well ! 
His smile was endearment. 

His whisper a spell. 

I fly from his presence ; 

Alas ! it is vain ; 
I see him — I hear him — 

He's with me again ! 

He haunts me forever ; 

I worship him yet ; 
Oh ! idle endeavor ! 

I cannot forget ! 



THE exile's lament. 149 



THE EXILE'S LAMENT. 

I AM not happy here, mother ! 

I pine to go to you ; 
I weary for your voice and smile, 

Your love — the fond and true ! 

My English home is cold, mother, 

And dark and lonely too ! 
I never shall be happy here, — 

I pine to go to you ! 

Full many a simple melody 

I make of home and you ; 
But no one loves and sings the song 

As Lizzie used to do ! 

I've friends, vv^ho kindly welcome give, 
And whom I'll ne'er forget ; 

But they love others more than me. 
And I am not their pet ! 

IS* 



6 



150 THE exile's lament. 

In at my lattice laughs the sun, 
And plays about my feet ; 

I'd welcome it if you were here 
Its summer warmth to greet ! 

The sky ne'er seems so blue, mother, — 

So balmy soft the air ! 
And oh ! the flowers are not so pure 

As those I used to wear ! 

My baby Ellen gaily plays, 
But none are here to note, 

With partial praise, her winning ways, 
Or catch the gems that float — 

The gems of thought that sparkle o'er 
Her mind's untroubled sea ; 

Then vanish in its depths before 
We well know what they be ! 

How oft, when lovelier than their wont 
Her cheeks' pure roses glow, 

And fairer 'neath the sunlit hair 
Her veined temples show, 

@ 



LEONOR. 151 

I want it watch'd by other eye, 

That face — so bright to me ! 
And sigh — " If mother now were by !" 

" If Lizzie could but see !" 

Oh ! my English home is cold, mother, 

And dark and lonely too ! 
I never shall be happy here, — 

I pine to go to you ! 

I will not call it " home," mother. 

From those I love so far ! — 
That only can be home to me, 

Where you and Lizzie are. 



LEONOR. 



Leonor loved a noble youth, 

But light was Leonor's maiden truth ; 

She left her love for wealth forsooth. 

Faithless Leonor ! 



152 LEONOR. 

Now she paces a palace-hall ; 
Lords and ladies await her call, — 
Wearily Leonor turns from all. 

Haughty Leonor ! 

Leonor lies on a couch of down ; 
The jewel-light of a ducal crown 
Gleams through her tresses of sunlit brown. 

Beautiful Leonor ! 

Leonor's robe is a tissue of gold, 
Flashing with splendor in every fold ; 
Bracelets of gems on her arms arc roll'd. 

Radiant Leonor ! 

Diamonds sparkle in Leonor's zone, 
With a star-like glory in every stone ; 
But the heart they smile over is cold and lone. 

Joyless Leonor ! 

To be free once more she would give them all, — 
The crown, the couch, and the sculptured hall, 
And the robe with its rich and shining fall. 

Poor, poor Leonor ! 



©-- 



TO LIZZIE. 153 



Like a captive bird, through her cage's bar 
Of gold, she looks on her home afar, 
And it woos her there like a holy star. 

Vainly, Leonor ! 

Leonor's lip has lost its bloom. 
Her proud blue eyes are dark with gloom ; 
She will sleep in peace in her early tomb. 

Lonely Leonor ! 



TO LIZZIE. 



Mine own sweet sister, wheresoe'er I go 

I hear thy voice melodiously low ; 

Thine eyes, thy soft, dark, eloquent, loving eyes, 

Before me in remember'd beauty rise ! 

Doth nature robe her form in rich array. 

Wreathing her brow with stars for jewels rare ! 

Zoning her waist with the green moss of May, 
And broid'ring all her vest with blossoms fair 1 



--^ 



-154 TO LIZZIE. 

Do her sweet tones — sweet as thine own the while. 
Forth from my home my willing feet allure, 

To wander in the warm light of her smile, 
And bare my forehead to her breathing pure 1 

I sigh and think — if thou wert with me now, 
Exulting in thy youth, and health, and glee. 

How wouldst thou toss the ringlets from thy brow, 
And join in all her joyous revelry ! 

How would thy heart's enthusiast pulses beat, 
Thy voice with all its wealth of music rise, 

Her ever changing melody to meet. 

Love in thy soul, and rapture in thine eyes ! 

Oh ! sweetest, loveliest ! would that thou wert here. 
Heaven loses half her holy light to me ; 

Earth is ungraced with all her spring-tide gear. 
And life itself worth little without thee ! 



^ 



VICTORIA. 155 



VICTORIA, 
On her wajj to Guildhall. 

They told me the diamond-tiar on her head 

Gleam'd out like chain-lightning amid her soft hair, 

They told me the many-hued glory it shed 

Seem'd a rainbow still playing resplendently there ; 

I mark'd not the gem's regal lustre the while, 

I saw but her sunny, her soul-illumed smile. 

They told me the plume floated over her face, 
Like a snowy cloud shading the rose-light of morn : 

I saw not the soft feather's tremulous grace, 
I watch'd but the being by whom it was worn ; 

I watch'd her white brow as benignly it bent, 

While the million-voiced welcome the air around 
rent. 



156 VICTORIA. 

They told me the rich silken robe that she wore 
Was of exquisite texture and loveliest die, 

Embroider'd with blossoms of silver all o'er, 

And clasp'd with pure jewels that dazzled the eye : 

I saw not, I thought not of clasp, robe, or wreath, 

I thought of the timid heart beating beneath. 

I was born in a land where they bend not the knee. 
Save to One — unto whom even monarchs bow 
down : 
But lo ! as I gazed, in my breast springing free. 

Love knelt to her sweetness, forgetting her crown ; 
And my heart might have challenged the myriads 

there, 
For the warmth of its praise, and the truth of its 
prayer. 



And to her — ^to that maiden, young, innocent, gay, 
With the wild-rose of childhood yet warm on her 
cheek, 

And a spirit, scarce calm'd from its infantine play 
Into woman's deep feeling, devoted and meek ; 

To her — in the bloom of her shadowless youth — 

Proud millions are turning with chivalrous truth. 

) Q 



NONE ARE POOR. 157 

It is right, — the All-judging hath order"'d it so ; 

In the light of His favor the pure maiden stands : 
And who, that has gazed on that cheek's modest 
glow. 
Would not yield without murmur his fate to her 
hands 1 
Trust on, noble Britons ! trust freely the while ! 
I would stake my soul's hope on the truth of that 
smile ! 



NONE ARE POOR. 

Alas ! for the gay, who in gorgeous array, 

And chariots of pride, to God's altars are roU'd : 

They would turn from a love-breathing seraph away 
If he came not apparell'd in purple and gold ! 

She stood 'mid the splendid insignia of wealth ; 
But the jewels that shone o'er her beauty and 
bloom 

14 



158 NONE ARE POOR. 

Were less fair than the sunny ray, smiling by stealth 
Through the rose-tinted damask that shaded the 
room! 

In the flash of her glance there was passion and 
pride, 
In the curve of her lip there was haughty con- 
tempt, 
As she spoke of the power to riches allied, 

Of the evil and pain from which she was exempt. 

Another stood by, with a soul in her eye. 
Out-glowing in lustre the sun-ray and gem ; 

And a fount in that soul of warm feeling and high, 
Whose least emanation was worth all of them. 

She had pass'd thro' the shadow and sunlight of life, 
She had learn'd in its storms to exult and endure ; 

And her gentle reply with sweet wisdom was rife — 
" To me, there are none in the universe — poor !" 



FAZRY. 159 



FAZRY. 

Her hands clasp'd in anguish — her black eyes bent 
low, 

With motionless grace, as if sculptured in stone. 
Half veil'd by her dark hair's magnificent flow, 

Sweet Fazry is standing — a captive — alone ! 

" Kara Aly !" — the statue awakes to that name, 
As the marble grew warm 'neath the love-spell of 
old! 

Lo ! her pale cheek is kindling with beautiful shame. 
And her eye is on fire with emotion untold ! 

" Frail flower of Kazan ! you were nursed, from 

your birth. 
Amid luxuries rarest and richest of earth , — 
Why left you that home, with the fierce mountain- 

chiefr' 
" I loved him !" she murmur'd, in passionate grief. 



160 MAY-DAY IN NEW ENGLAND. 

" So young and so lovely, a cavern your home ! 
Ne'er languish'd that spirit for freedom to roam 1 
Rude dwelling for creature so fragile and fair !" 
" Ah, no !" she replied — " Kara Aly was there !" 



MAY-DAY nsr NEW ENGLAND. 

Can this be May 1 Can this be May 1 

We have not found a flower to-day ! 

We roam'd the wood — we climb'd the hill — 

We rested by the rushing rill — 

And lest they had forgot the day, 

We told them it was May, dear May ! 

We call'd the sweet wild blooms by name — 

We shouted, and no answer came ! 

From smiling field, or solemn hill — 

From rugged rock, or rushing rill — 

We only bade the pretty pets 

Just breathe from out their hiding-places ; 



@- 



MAY-DAY IN NEW ENGLAND. 161 

We told the little light coquettes 

They needn't show their bashful faces, — 
" One sigh," we said, " one fragrant sigh, 
We'll soon discover where you lie !" 
The roguish things were still as death — 
They wouldn't even breathe a breath. 
Alas ! there's none so deaf, I fear, 
As those who do not choose to hear ! 

We wander'd to an open place, 

And sought the sunny buttercup, — 
That, so delighted, in your face 

Just like a pleasant smile looks up. 
We peep'd into a shady spot 
To find the blue " Forget-me-not !" 
At last a far-off voice we heard, 

A voice as of a fountain-fall. 
That softer than a singing-bird. 

Did answer to our merry call ! 
So wildly sweet the breezes brought 

That tone in every pause of ours, 
That we, delighted, fondly thought 

It must be talking of the flowers ! 
We knew the violets loved to hide 
The cool and lulling wave beside : — 

14* 



=Q 



162 MAY-DAY IN NEW ENGLAND. 

With song-, and laugh, and bounding feet, 
And wild hair wandering on the wind, 
We swift pursued the murmurs sweet ; 
But not a blossom could we find ; — 
The cowslip, crocus, columbine, 
The violet, and the snow-drop fine, 
The orchis 'neath the hawthorn-tree, 
The blue-bell, and anemone, 
The wild-rose, eglantine, and daisy, 
Where are they all 1 — they must be lazy ! 
Perhaps they're playing " Hide and seek" — 
Oh, naughty flowers ! why don't you speak 1 
We have not found a flower to-day, — 
They surely cannot know 'tis May ! 

You have not found a flower to-day ! — 
What's that upon your cheek, I pray 1 
A blossom pure, and sweet, and wild, 

And worth all Nature's blooming wealth 
Not all in vain your search, my child ! — 

You've found at least the rose of health ! 
The golden buttercup, you say. 
That like a smile illumes the way, 
Is nowhere to be seen to-day. , 

Fair child ! upon that beaming face 



MAY-DAY IN NEW ENGLAND. 163 

A softer, lovelier smile I trace ; 
A treasure, as the sunshine bright, — 
A glow of love and wild delight ! 
Then pine no more for. Nature's toy — 
You've found at least the flower of joy. 
Yes ! in a heart so young and gay, 
And kind as yours, 'tis always May ! 
For gentle feelings, love, are flowers 
That bloom thro' life's most clouded hours ! 
Ah ! cherish them, my happy child. 
And check the weeds that wander wild ; 
And while their stainless wealth is given, 
In incense sweet, to earth and heaven, 
No longer will you need to say — 
" Can this be May 1 Can this be May ]" 



164 VIRGINIA. 



VIRGINIA. 

I SAW her first — a petted child, 
Her eyes were blue as heaven ; 

Her cheek was dimpled when she smiled, 
Her lips a rose-bud riven. 

Her form, the prettiest in the world, 

Her step — a fairy's flight. 
Her hair, like clouded sunshine, curl'd 

In clusters wild and bright. 

" A child," I said, — so artless, wild, 

And full of mirth her mien ; 
You'd deem her but a lovely child, 

Though she was just fifteen. 

I met her on her way to school, 
The snow fell swift and still ; 

The morn was clear and bright, but cool, 
And I had felt the chill. 



VIRGINIA. 165 



But idly at that childlike form 

Fierce Winter flung his dart ; 
Her frolic feet had kept her warm, 

And Love was at her heart. 

Her small straw bonnet backward flung, 
Her cloak blown here and there, 

While drops of snow-like jewels hung 
In her disorder'd hair. — 

That dimpled cheek was flush'd and bright, 

A smile was on her lip ; 
Her eyes were full of wild delight, 

And gay her graceful trip. 

She seern'd a sunbeam in my way, 

The vision warm'd my heart, 
And Memory kept the blessed ray 

Long after we did part. 

Years went — again her path I've cross'd ; 

Ah ! from that form and face 
What depth of bloom and light are lost. 

What wealth of artless ffrace ! 



166 VIRGINIA. 

The world has won her — she has learn'd 
Its measured smile and tread ; 

The foot that once the snow-flake spurn'd, 
By courtly rule is led. 

And Fashion's hand has smooth'd the fold 

Of that luxuriant hair, 
Where once the tress of glossy gold 

Waved wildly on the air. 

Yet oft, unbidden, to her eyes 
Quick tears of Feeling start. 

And while those gems of truth arise, 
She's still a child at heart. 

Alas ! in all her Beauty's power, 

Proud, stately, and serene ; 
She knows not one bright thrilling hour 

Like those of gay fifteen ! 



TO ANNA. 167 



TO ANNA, 

In reply to a Letter. 

Don't say you are " ugly," you darling ! 

While still your sweet letters unfold 
The same glowing soul that enliven'd 

Those delicate features of old ! — 

That soul, whose pure fire would illume, love, 
A cheek of less exquisite mould, 

With a changeable beauty and bloom, love. 
To which Aphrodite's were cold. 

Don't say you've grown " ugly and stupid," 
While still in each line I can trace 

Some glimpse of those lovely emotions 
Which once I could read in your face ! 



p o 

168 WHAT I LOVE. 

"^hen you tell me your mind wears a chain, love, 
When you tell me your heart is asleep, 

Then may-be, but never till then, love, 
The wreck of your beauty I'll weep. 



WHAT I LOVE. 



I DEARLY love a changing cheek. 

That glows or pales as feeling chooses. 

And lets the free heart frankly speak 
Upon it what the tongue refuses. 

Where eloquent blushes burn and fade. 
Rich with the wealth of warm emotion ; 

Or starry dimples mock the shade. 
Like jewels in a restless ocean. 

I dearly love a speaking eye. 

That tells you there's a soul to wake it ; 
Now fired with fancies wild and high. 

Now soft as sympathy can make it. 



WHAT I LOVE. 169 



An eye whose dreamy depths and dark, 
In Passion's storm can proudly lighten ! 

But where Love's tears can quench the spark, 
And Peace the sky serenely brighten ! 

I love a lip that eye to match. 

Now curl'd with scorn, now press'd in sadness. 
And quick each feeling's change to catch. 

Next moment arch'd with smiles of gladness. 

I love a hand that meets mine own 

With grasp that causes some sensation ; 

I love a voice whose varying tone 

From Truth has learn'd its modulation. 

And who can boast that regal eye T 
That smile and tone, untaught by art 1 

That cheek of ever-changing dye 1 

That brave, free, generous, cordial heart 1 

I need not name her ! None who've heard 
Her welcome true — her parting blessing — 

Her laugh, by lightest trifle stirr'd — 
Her frank reply — will fail in guessing ! 

15 



=^ 



170 ON A LANDSCAPE BY DOUGHTY. 



ON A LANDSCAPE BY DOUGHTY, 
Culled " The Indian Summer." 

Ah, yes ! in the mist, whose soft splendor 
Is shed like a smile o'er the scene, 

So rich, yet so meltingly tender, 
So radiant, yet so serene, — 

In the azure air veilingr the mountain, 
Far off, with its own robe of light, 

In the gleam and the foam of the fountain, 
In the foliage so gorgeously bright, — 

I see a wild beauty belonging 

To one sunny region alone — 
New England, beloved New England ! 

The soul-waking scene is thine own ! 



ON A LANDSCAPE BY DOUGHTY. 171 



And gazing entranced on the picture, 
Mine eyes are with tears running o'er ; 

For my heart has flown home to those mountains, 
And I am an exile no more ! 

Again through the woodlands I wander. 
Where autumn trees, lofty and bold. 

Are stealing from bright clouds above them 
Their wealth of deep crimson and gold. 

Where Nature is sceptred and crown'd. 
As a queen in her worshipping land ; 

While her rock-pillar'd palaces round, 
All matchless in majesty stand ! 

Where the star of her forest dominions. 
The humming-bird, darts to its food, 

Like a gem or a blossom on pinions. 
Whose glory illumines the wood. 

Where her loftiest, loveliest flower,* 
Pours forth its impassion'd perfume ; 

And her torrents, all regal in power. 

Are wreath'd with the sun-circle's bloom. 

* The Magnolia. 



172 ON A LANDSCAPE BY DOUGHTY. 

Where, on cloud-pillows soft but resplendent, 

Our day-spirit floats to his rest ; 
And the moon, like a pure jewel-pendent. 

Is hung on night's love-breathing breast. 

New England ! beloved New England ! 

I breathe thy rich air as of yore ; 
For my heart is at home in those mountains, 

And I am an exile no more ! 

Yet not for thy beauty or glory. 
Though lofty and lovely thou art. 

And not for thy proud haunts of story, 
These tears of deep tenderness start ; — 

There's a home in the heart of New England, 
Where once I was fondly caress'd ! 

Where strangers ne'er look'd on me coldly. 
And care never came to my breast ! 

Though warm hearts have cherish'd the exile 

In moments of sorrow and pain, 
There's a home in the heart of New England, — 

Oh ! when shall I see it again ! 



A LOVE SONG. 173 



YOUR HEART IS A MUSIO-BOX, DEAREST ! 



A LOVE SONG. 



Your heart is a music-box, dearest ! 

With exquisite tunes at command, 
Of melody sweetest and clearest, 

If tried by a delicate hand ; 
But its workmanship, love, is so fine. 

At a single rude touch it would break ; 
Then oh ! be the magic key mine. 

Its fairy-like whispers to wake ! 
And there's one little tune it can play, 

That I fancy all others above — 
You learn'd it of Cupid one day — 

It begins with and ends with "I love!" 
" I love !" 

My heart echoes to it " I love !" 



15« 



174 THE cherub's secret. 



THE CHERUB'S SECRET. 

What made my Ellen start and smile, 
Then sink in soft repose again, 

As if some joyous thought the while 

Had darted through her slumbering brain, 

Like rosy lightning brief and bright, 

Illumining a summer night I 

Perhaps a viewless cherub stole. 
Young as thyself, as pure and fair, 

On tiny pinions to thy soul, 

And whisp'ring some sweet secret there, 

Awoke that smile of heavenly glee : 

My Ellen ! wake— and tell it me ! 



HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 175 



HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 

Mother of the spirit-child ! 

Of the guileless and the meek 
Mournful are thine eyes, but mild 
With a beauty from above ; 
Pale, but eloquent with love, 
Thy youthful brow and cheek ! 
Thou, oh ! thou hast known a parent's wasting grief ! 
A suppliant parent kneels, imploring thy relief ! 

By the pure and solemn joy 

Filling all thy maiden breast, 
When the precious heaven-born boy, 
Glowing with celestial charms, 
Lay within those virgin arms 
A bright and wondrous guest ! 
Hear, in mercy, hear the faltering voice of grief ! 
A suppliant mother kneels, imploring thy relief! 



9 

176 THE DYING ROSE-BUD's LAMENT. 

By thine anguish in that hour, 

Hour of wo and dread, when Death 
Dared to stay the awful power, 
High, majestic, yet benign ; 
Dared to seal the truths divine 
Which dwelt upon his breath ! 
By thy hope, thy trust, thy rapture, and thy grief, 
Oh ! sainted Marie ! send this breaking heart relief! 



THE DYING ROSE-BUD'S LAMENT. 

Ah me ! ah ! wo is me ! 

That I should perish now, 
With the dear sunlight just let in 

Upon my balmy brow ! 

My leaves, instinct with glowing life, 
Were quivering to unclose ! 

My happy heart with love was rife ! 
I was almost a Rose ! 



r 



THE DYING ROSE-BUD's LAMENT. 177 

Nerved by a hope, warm, rich, intense, 

Already I had risen 
Above my cage's curving fence. 

My green and graceful prison ! 

My pouting lips, by Zephyr press'd, 

Were just prepared to part, 
And whisper to the wooing wind 

The rapture of my heart ! 

In new-born fancies revelling, 

My mossy cell half riven. 
Each thrilling leaflet seem'd a wing 

To bear me into heaven. 

How oft, while yet an infant flower, 

My crimson cheek I've laid 
Against the green bars of my bower, 

Impatient of the shade ! 

And pressing up and peeping through 

Its small but precious vistas, 
Sigh'd for the lovely light and dew 

That bless'd my elder sisters ! 



178 THE UNEXPECTED DECLARATION. 

I saw the sweet breeze rippling o'er 
Their leaves that loved the play, 

Though the light thief stole all their store 
Of dew-drop gems away. 

I thought how happy I should be 
Such diamond wreaths to wear, 

And frolic with a rose's glee, 
With sunbeam, bird, and air ! 

Ah me ! ah ! wo is me ! that I, 

Ere yet my leaves unclose, 
With all my wealth of sweets must die 

Before I am a Rose ! 



THE UNEXPEOTED DECLARATION. 

" Azure-eyed Eloise ! beauty is thine, 
Passion kneels to thee, and calls thee divine ; 
Minstrels awaken the lute with thy name ; 
Poets have gladden'd the world with thy fame ; 



@-- 



THE UNEXPECTED DECLARATION. 179 

Painters, half holy, thy loved imag-e keep ; 
Beautiful Eloise ! why do you weep ?" 

Still bows the lady her light tresses low, — 
Fast the warm tears from her veiled eyes flow ! 

" Sunny-hair'd Eloise ! wealth is thine own ; 
Rich is thy silken robe — bright is thy zone ; 
Proudly the jewel illumines thy way ; 
Clear rubies rival thy ruddy lip's play ; 
Diamonds like star-drops thy silken braids deck ; 
Pearls waste their snow on thy lovelier neck ; 
Luxury softens thy pillow for sleep — 
Angels watch over it ! — Why do you weep V* 

Bows the fair lady her light tresses low, — 
Faster the tears from her veiled eyes flow ! 

" Gifted and worshipped one ! Genius and Grace 
Play in each motion, and beam in thy face : 
When from thy rosy lip rises the song, 
Hearts that adore thee the echo prolong ! 
Ne'er in the festival shone an eye brighter, 
Ne'er in the mazy dance fell a foot lighter. 



^ 

180 THE UNEXPECTED DECLARATION. 

One only, spirit thou'st fail'd to bring down, — 
Exquisite Eloise ! why do you frown T" 

Swift o'er her forehead a dark shadow stole, 
Sent from the tempest of pride in her soul ! 

" Touch'd by thy sweetness — in love with thy 

grace — 
Charm'd by the magic of mind in thy face — 
Bewitch'd by thy beauty — e'en his haughty strength — 
The strength of the stoic, is conquer'd at length ! 
Lo ! at thy feet — see him kneeling the while — 
Eloise ! Eloise ! why do you smile ?" 

The hand was withdrawn from her happy blue eyes, 
She gazed on her lover with laughing surprise ; 
While the dimple and blush, stealing soft to her cheek. 
Told the tale that her tongue was too timid to speak ! 



LIZZIE. 181 



WHAT CAN BE THE MATTER WITH LIZZIE ? 

What can be the matter with Lizzie to-night "? 

Her eyes, that in tears were so touchingly tender, 
For twenty-four hours have been filling with light. 

Till I scarcely dare meet their bewildering splendor. 

You'd almost imagine a star had been lighted 
Within her — a new-born and beautiful flame, 

To bless with its pure ray her spirit benighted. 
And smile thro' those eyes to which sorrow's cloud 
came. 

What can be the matter with Lizzie ! — her cheek, 
That of late has been dimpleless, colorless, cold, 

Has gather'd a glow and a glory, that speak 
Like an eloquent voice of a rapture untold. 

What can be the matter with Lizzie ! — her tone, 
That was doubting and faint in its low melody 

16 



182 LIZZIE. 

As the morning ray rising thro' mist-tears alone, 
Or the sound of a bell ringing soft in the sea, — 

Has suddenly thrill'd to a richness and fervor, 
A passionate sweetness, untroubled and deep — 

You would think in her heart had arisen to nerve her, 
An angel, — awaken'd from sorrow and sleep. 

It is Love ! it is Love ! by the joy that is stealing 
Like liffht o'er her forehead I know it is Love ! — 

He has touched with his wand the wild fountain of 
feeling, 
He floats like a spirit that fountain above. 

He has kindled his star-lamp — the deathless — the 
pure — 

Within — and her heart's hidden riches are shown ; 
His own seraph voice has breathed melody to her — 

And hers has caught all its deep magic of tone. 

Oh! still may that voice keep its sweetness and joy. 
And still may that cheek wear its glow of delight. 

And those dear eyes, unshadow'd by sorrow's alloy, 
Still beam with the fondness that fills them to-night. 



=d 



MINA DOLCE. 183 



MINA DOLCE. 



Beneath Italia's laughing skies, 

When joy the summer hour beguiled ; 
I found one day a lovely prize, 
A blossom bright and wild. 
Ah ! Mina Dolce ! Cara Mina ! graceful Rose of 

Italie I 
Dost thou bloom there in thy beauty still, — and is 
thy bloom for me 1 

I raised its tender cheek to mine, 
I woke it from its pure repose ; 
I kiss'd away its dew divine ! 
Its tears ! — my radiant Rose ! 
Ah ! Mina Dolce ! Cara Mina ! blushing flower of 

Italie ! 
Art thou smiling in thy bower still, — and is thy 
smile for me 1 



184 LINES. 

I've gazed since then on loftier flowers, 
In scenes more richly, grandly wild, 
Ne'er found I bloom in Northern bowers 
To match Italia's child. 
Ah ! Mina Dolce ! Cara Mina ! virgin Rose of 

Italic ! 
May I wear thee on my heairt, and wilt thou give 
thy tears to me ] 



LINES 



Suggested by a mourning-locket, in which was painted a winged 
Cherub, with the motto—" Je veille sur toi, ma mere I" 



Je veille sur toi, ma m6re ! 

I hear thy softest sigh of love, 
I listen to thy lightest prayer, 

And echo it above. 



==@ 



©-- 



LINES. 



I see thee when, in lonely hour, 

My semblance wins thy ready tear ; 

Thou canst not hear my spirit step, 
But, mother ! I am near ! 

When glowing morn the mountain treads 
With foot of fire and dewy eye. 

And dazzled seraphs veil their heads 
Before the light on high ! 

And when beneath my home of joy 
The stars are smiling through the air. 

Where angels roam on blest employ, 
Je veille sur toi, ma mere ! 

While o'er thy wearied frame is shed 
The welcome balm of soothing sleep, 

Lightly o'er that beloved head — 
My vigils still I keep ! 

Dost thou not see in visions fair, 
A radiant being wander by ] 

And hear a soft voice murmuring there, 
" My mother ! it is I V 



==0 
185 



16' 



186 WHY WILL A ROSE-BUD BLOW? 

And when above my early grave 
Thy gentle spirit prays relief, 

Feel'st thou no angel-plumage wave 
Above thee in thy grief I 

Je veille sur toi, ma m6re ! 

Oh ! still thy lost but happy boy 
Is near thee, with thee everywhere, 

In sorrow and in joy. 

Forget not then, where'er thou art, 

The promise-words that bless thy prayer. 

But wear them in thy " heart of heart," 
" Je veille sur toi, ma mere !" 



WHY WILL A ROSE-BUD BLOW? 

I WISH the bud would never blow, 
'Tis prettier and purer so ; 
It blushes through its bower of green, 
And peeps above the mossy screen 



©-- 



WHY WILL A ROSE-BUD BLOW? 187 



So timidly, I cannot bear 

To have it open to the air. 

I kiss'd it o'er and o'er again, 

As if my kisses were a chain, 

To close the quivering leaflets fast, 

And make for once — a rose-bud last ! 

But kisses are but feeble links 

For changeful things, like flowers, methinks ; 

The wayward rose-leaves, one by one, 

UncurPd and look'd up to the sun, 

With their sweet flushes fainter growing, 

I could not keep my bud from blowing ! 

Ah ! there upon my hand it lay, 

And faded, faded fast away ; 

You might have thought you heard it sighing. 

It look'd so mournfully in dying. 

I wish it were a rose-bud now, 

I wish 'twere only hiding yet, 
With timid grace its blushing brow, 

Behind the green that shelter'd it. 
I had not written were it so, 
Why would the silly rose-bud blow 1 



@=- 



188 NEW England's mountain-child. 



FANNY'S ERROR. 

Fanny shuts her smiling eyes, 
Then, because she cannot see, — 

Thoughtless simpleton ! she cries, 
" Ah ! you can't see me !" 

Fanny's like the sinner vain, 
Who with spirit shut and dim, 

Thinks because he sees not Heaven, 
Heaven cannot see him ! 



NEW ENG-LAND'S MOUWTAIN-OHILD. 

Where foams the fall — a tameless storm — 
Through Nature's wild and rich arcade, 

Which forest-trees entwining form. 
There trips the Mountain-maid ! 



NEW England's mountain-child. 189 

She binds not her luxuriant hair 
With dazzling gem or costly plume, 

But gayly wreathes a rose-bud there, 
To match her maiden-bloom. 

She clasps no golden zone of pride 
Her fair and simple robe around ; 

By flowing riband, lightly tied, 
Its graceful folds are bound. 

And thus attired, — a sportive thing. 

Pure, loving, guileless, bright, and wild, — 

Proud Fashion ! match me in your ring. 
New England's Mountain-child ! 

She scorns to sell her rich, warm heart, 
For paltry gold, or haughty rank, — 

But gives her love, untaught by art, 
Confiding, free, and frank ! 

And once bestow'd, — no fortune-change 
That high and generous faith can alter ; 

Through grief and pain — too pure to range — 
She will not fly or falter. 



190 THE BABY AND THE BREEZE. 

Her foot will bound as light and free 
In lowly hut as palace-hall ; 

Her sunny smile as warm will be, — 
For Love to her is all ! 

Hast seen where in our woodland-gloom 
The rich Magnolia proudly smiled 1 — 

So brightly doth she bud and bloom, 
New Enffland's Mountain-child ! 



THE BABY AND THE BREEZE. 

The breeze was high, and blew her sun-brown 
tresses 
About her snowy brow and violet eyes ; 
And she — my Ellen — brave and sweetly wise, 
In gay defiance of its rough caresses. 
With rosy, pouting mouth, essay'd at length 
To blow the rude airs back, that mock'd her baby- 
strength. 



b-- 



LINES. 191 

Ah ! thus when Fortune's storms assail thy soul, 
Yield not, nor shrink ! but bear thee bravely still 
Against their fury ! With thine own sweet will 
And childlike foith, oppose their fierce control, 
So shalt thou bloom at last, my treasured flower, 
Unharm'd by tempest-shock, in Heaven's calm sum- 
mer bower ! 



LINES 
ON Howard's picture or " the hours awaking the morning." 

She sleeps ! on her cloud-pillows softly reclining. 
Her glowing cheek dimples with dreamy delight, 

Around her white shoulders rich sun-tresses twining, 
With dim, dewy lustre, illumine the night ; — 

Yes ! faint through the mist that enwreathes her re- 
posing, 
The gleam of that golden hair glistens the while, 



192 LINES. 

Making twilight on high ; — till those blue eyes, un- 
closing, 
Shall flash on creation the wealth of their smile ! 

She sleeps ! and the stars have gone by in their 

glory, 
Nor woke with their wing'd feet the dreamer they 

met ! 
And Dian has stolen to tell the love-story 
Her blooming Endymion listens to yet ! 

She sleeps ! the young goddess Aurora ! — so glow- 
ing, 
So sweet are her visions, she will not awake ! 
And silent and swift are the dim Hours going, — 
But hark ! o'er the stillness what music doth 
break ! 

Behold ! through the mist, the fair Hour of the 
Morning, 
With smiles of arch meaning, floats gracefully 

by; 
Her finger uplifted in frolicsome warning. 

With song on her lip, and reproof in her eye ! 



LINES. 193 

" Sweet sluggard ! awaken ! — Apollo is near ! 

Oh ! fly ere the god shall thy slumbers surprise ! 
His flame-winged coursers already I hear ! 

Aurora ! my sister ! — awaken ! arise !" 

And the goddess springs up from the slumbers that 
bound her, 
And pauses in blushing bev/ilderment there ; 
Her rosy smiles melting the mist-wreath around 
her, — 
Her gold-tresses shedding soft dew on the air ! 

Now slowly she comes ! — Heaven kindles before 
her, — 

Her lark warbles proudly his passionate lay, — 
Earth woos with a smile the light step of Aurora, — 

And Beauty and Music awake in her way ! 



@= 



194 THE CHILD PLAYING WITH A WATCH. 



THE CHILD PLAYING WITH A WATCH. 

Art thou playing with Time in thy sweet baby- 
glee 1 
Will he pause on his pinions to frolic with thee ] 
Oh ! show him those shadowless, innocent eyes, 
That smile of bewilder'd and beaming surprise •; 
Let him look on that cheek where thy rich hair re- 
poses. 
Where dimples are playing " bopeep" with the roses ; 
His wrinkled brow press with light kisses and warm. 
And clasp his rough neck with thy soft wreathing 

arm. 
Perhaps thy bewitching and infantine sweetness 
May win him, for once, to delay in his fleetness ; 
To pause, ere he rifle, relentless in flight, 
A blossom so glowing of bloom and of light. 
Then, then would I keep thee, my beautiful child, 
With thy blue eyes unshadow'd, thy blush undefiled ; 



^t 



WHY don't he come? 195 

With thy innocence only to guard thee from ill, 
In life's sunny dawning, a lily-bud still ! 
Laugh on ! my own Ellen ! that voice, which to me 
Gives a warning so solemn, makes music for thee ; 
And while I at those sounds feel the idler's annoy, 
Thou hear'st but the tick of the pretty gold toy ; 
Thou seest but a smile on the brow of the churl. 
May his frown never awe thee, my own baby-girl. 
And oh ! may his step, as he wanders with thee. 
Light and soft as thine own little fairy-tread be ! 
While still in all seasons, in storms and fair weather. 
May Time and my Ellen be playmates together. 



WHY DON'T HE COMB ? 

All the girls in the village save me have gone forth, 
To meet the brave soldiers return'd from the North, 
They have donn'd the best kirtle and braided their 

hair. 
And gayly their voices ring back on the air ; 



196 WHY don't he come l 

But I am too happy to care for my dress, 
Or to bind with bright ribands the wild-waving tress, 
For the fairest, and bravest, and best of the band. 
Will claim, ere the morrow, this heart and this hand. 
Hush ! hark ! far away ! 'tis the bugle and drum ! 
Now louder and nearer — oh ! why don't he come 1 

I cannot go forth with the others to claim 

His smile — his caresses — I cannot for shame ! 

For my love is too holy, my joy is too high. 

To bear the light gaze of each villager's eye ; 

He would think I had changed, — I should shrink 

from his touch, — 
I should hate them to see that I love him so much. 
But here ! oh ! how fondly I'll welcome him home ! 
He knows I am waiting him — why don't he come ? 

Perhaps cousin Mabel has seen him ere this, — 
She would not be bashful at claiming a kiss ; 
How exulting she look'd as she join'd the gay girls, 
With those red berries wreathing her shadowy curls ! 
It is true all the lads say her smile is divine. 
But I don't think her eyes are so pretty as mine ; — 
So black and so bold ! and they dazzle one so ! 
My Willie loves blue eyes and light hair, I know : 





ON A PICTURE. 197 



He will not forget his own Ellen at home, 
For Mabel or any one, — when will he come 1 

I'm weary of waiting — how strangely unkind 
To linger so from me, — I've made up my mind 
I won't kiss him now, when he does — ah ! behold ! 
Who hastes o'er the common with bearing so bold 1 
He waves his plumed cap ! it is he ! it is he ! 
Bless his heart — how he flies now he's caught sight 

of me ! 
Ah ! Mabel may listen the bugle and drum, 
And bewitch the whole regiment — Willie has come ! 



ON A PICTURE, 



&- 



Representing a maiden with a pair of scales, and Love with a but- 
terfly ; the winged boy rises, as he should, and the motto be- 
neath is—" Love is the lightest !" 

Silly maiden, weigh them not ! 

Butterflies are earthly things ; 
Thou forget'st their lowly lot. 

Gazing on their glittering wings. 

17* 



=^ 



198 ON A PICTURE. 



Rather weigh thy taper pale 
With the light by Luna given ; 

Will the heaven-ray turn the scale ? 
Will the earth-lamp rise to heaven 1 

Love, — ethereal, holy Love ! 

Buoyant, joyous, proud, and free, 
Maiden, see ! he soars above 

Worldly Pride and Vanity ! 

Rightly to its native earth 
Sinks the gilded insect-fly ; 

Love — of holier, heavenlier birth — 
Rises tow'rds his honne on hicjh ! 

Maiden ! throw the scales away. 
Never weigh poor Love again ; 

Let his pinions freely play. 

Bind him not with vassal-chain ! 

See ! he lifts his wondering eye 
Half reproachfully to thee ; — 

Measured with a butterfly ! 
I'd take win"- if I were he ! 



ELLEN LEARNING TO WALK. 199 



If he must be proved and tried, 
Weitrh him in thine own true heart, 

'Gainst a frowning world beside, — 
Wealth and rank 'gainst bow and dart ! 

If he do not scorn the measure. 

Soaring high o'er them and thee, — 

Worth the world and worldly treasure,— 
Mark me ! Love outweighs the three ! 



ELLEN LEARNING TO WALK. 

My beautiful trembler ! how wildly she shrinks ! 

And how wistful she looks while she lingers ! 
Papa is extremely uncivil, she thinks, 

She but pleaded for one of his fingers ! 

What eloquent pleading ! the hund reaching out. 

As if doubting so strange a refusal ; 
While her blue eyes say plainly, " What is he about 

That he does not assist me as usual ]" 



=© 



200 ELLEN LEARNING TO WALK. 

Come on, my pet Ellen ! we won't let you slip, — 
Unclasp those soft arms from his knee, love ; 

I see a faint smile round that exquisite lip, 
A smile half reproach and half glee, love. 

So ! that's my brave baby ! one foot falters forward, 

Half doubtful the other steals by it ! 
What, shrinking again ! why, you shy little coward ! 

'Twon't kill you to walk a bit ! — try it ! 

There ! steady, my darling ! huzza ! I have caught 
her I 
I clasp her, caress'd and caressing ! 
And she hides her bright face, as if what we had 
taught her 
Were something to blush for — the blessing ! 

Now back again! Bravo ! that shout of delight, 
How it thrills to the hearts that adore her ! 

Joy, joy for her mother ! and blest be the night, 
When her little light feet first upbore her ! 



ON PARTING, ETC. 201 



ON PARTING FOR A TIME WITH AN INFANT'S 
PORTRAIT. 

Fair image of my fairer child ! 

Full many a moment's weary wo 
By those blue eyes has been beguiled ! 

How can I let my idol go ? 

For when my living treasure sleeps, 
And hides her bashful glance of glee, 

Thy cherub face unchanging keeps 
Its precious bloom and smiles for me ! 

There still I see the flossy hair 

That bathes with light her glowing face ; 
Her dimpled hands so round and fair, — 

Her fragile form, — her childish grace I 

Yet go ! and with those earnest eyes, 
O'ershadow'd by thy silken curl, 

Gaze smiling into stranger-hearts, 
And bid them bless my fairy girl ! 



=© 



202 Lucy's GEM. 



LUCT"S G-EM. 



A TRCE STORY. 



" YouVe read, my pet, in olden story, 
That oft o'er royal infant's bed, 

Some mystic gift of grace or glory 
By fairy hands was shed. 

" I know a child in modern days, 

Who, when a baby, thus was bless'd ; 

But 'twas by One of rarer skill 
Than fays of old possess'd. 

" This Being, kind as powerful, lent 
The child two wondrous living gems, 

More precious than the costliest stone 
In Eastern diadems. 



=@ 



Lucy's gem. 203 



" And fair they shone from mom till night, 
Those treasures, 'neath the lifted lid ; 

But when the gems of Heaven came out, 
The gems of earth were hid ; 

" For oh ! so delicately \vTOught, 
So dainty, and so pure were they, 

The lamp-light and the evening air 
Would dim their azure ray. 

" In each white case a magic well, 

A little, fairy, charmed thing, 
At times, to bathe the jewels, pour'd 

Its never-failing spring. 

" But more amazing gifts than these, 

Each tiny talisman possess'd ; 
Now was she not a favor'd child, 

To be so richly blessM ? 

" No sooner did she raise the lid. 
Than suddenly, in each gem of light, 

A perfect little picture came. 
In colors pure and bright !" 



® 

204 Lucy's gem. 



" Mamma ! and were they all her own ? 

And might she always with them play ? 
What color were the toys, mamma ? 

What kind of stones were they !" 

" Two beaming sapphires ! Heaven's own light 
And color shone within them soft ; 

But clouds would o'er them flit at times, 
And dew would dim them oft. 

" Each in an ivory casket kept. 

Whose lid was moved on viewless hinge, 
With azure scroll-work all inlaid. 

And trimm'd with silken fringe. 

" Sometimes the child the caskets lock'd, 
And kept them closed for many an hour ; 

And none could lift the little lids. 
Save the kind Giver's power. 

" But then, when He commanded her 

To ope each tiny oval case, 
The gems within, by some strange charm, 

Had gain'd new light and grace. 



Lucy's gem. 205 



" 'Twas painted with consummate art, 
'Twas copied with a skill divine, 

From whatsoever chanced, just then. 
Before the gem to shine. 

" Was it a friend's beloved face 1 

Not Raphael's self the breathing form 

With such celestial truth could trace, 
So life-like, bright, and warm ! 

" Was it a landscape ? lo I within 

Her jewels waved the foliage green, — 

Hill, river, cot, and cloud, were there, 
And Heaven o'erarch'd the scene. 

" All day, the great, good sun for them 
New pictures of delight would weave, 

' The crimson coming of the morn, 
The funeral pomp of eve.' 

" The tiniest flower that deck'd the bower, 
Was imaged in each azure gem ; 

For them the rainbow smiled from heaven ; 
The stars came out for them ! 

18 



206 



LUCY S GEM. 



" But oh ! most wonderful of all ! 

These faithful friends to none betray'd 
The shifting pageant, as it pass'd, 

Save to the little maid. 

" When others gazed, they only saw 
A deep blue light, that softly smiled, 

Untroubled, save at times by tears, 
Shed o'er them by the child. 

" Though deep within, e'en while they look'd, 

The mimic diorama play'd. 
The gazers could but guess at it, . 

It smiled but on the maid." 

" Mamma ! mamma ! who was the child 1" 
" Her name, my love, was Lucy Grey." 

" Why ! that's my name ! you know, mamma, 
/'ve no such toys as they !" 



" Indeed you have ! This very hour. 
There is a portrait in them drawn 

Of one you love. Go now, my child, 
And shut them till the dawn." 



Lucy's gem. 207 



" Oh ! sweet mamma ! I've caught you now ; 

You needn't try to look demure ; 
You've made a cunning story out ; 

But I am right, I'm sure. 

" Yours is the portrait painted there, 

In colors beautiful and bright ; 
I'll shut you up, and keep you in, 

To dream about ! Good-night !" 

" Stay, Lucy, love ; you'll not forget, 
When you repeat your nightly prayer. 

To thank the Giver of all good 
For gifts so rich, so fair ?" 

" No, dear mamma ! and I will try 
To keep my spirit pure and true, 

That so the costly gems He gave. 
Lose not their heavenly hue." 



208 THE daisy's mistake. 



THE DAISY'S MISTAKE. 

A SUNBEAM and zephyr were playing about, 

One spring, ere a blossom had peep'd from the 
stem, 
When they heard, underground, a faint, fairy-like 
shout ; 
'Twas the voice of a field-daisy calling to them. 

" Oh ! tell me, my friend, has the winter gone by 1 
Is it time to come up 1 Is the Crocus there yet 1 

I know you are sporting above, and I sigh 

To be with you and kiss you ; — 'tis long since we 
met ! 

" I've been ready this great while, — all dress'd for 
the show ; 
I've a gem on my bosom that's pure as a star ; 



209 



And the frill of my robe is as white as the snow ; 
And I mean to be brighter than Crocuses are." 

Now the zephyr and sunbeam were wild with de- 
light ! 
It seem'd a whole age since they'd play'd with a 
flower ; 
So they told a great fib to the poor little sprite, 
That was languishing down in her underground 
bower. 

" Come out ! little darling ! as quick as you can ! 

The Crocus, the Cowslip, and Buttercup too, 
Have been up here this fortnight, we're having grand 
times. 

And all of them hourly asking for you ! 

" The Cowslip is crown'd with a topaz tiara ; 

The Crocus is flaunting in golden attire ; 
But you, little pet ! are a thousand times fairer ; 

To see you but once, is to love and admire ! 

" The skies smile benignantly all the day long ; 
The bee drinks your health in the purest of dew ; 

18* 



-=@ 



210 THE daisy's mistake. 

The lark has been waiting to sing you a song, 
Which he practised in Cloudland on purpose for 
you! 

" Come, come ! you are either too bashful or lazy ! 

Lady Spring made this season an early entree ; 
And she wonder'd what could have become of her 
Daisy ; 

We'll call you coquettish, if still you delay !" 

Then a still, small voice, in the heart of the flower, 
It was Instinct, whisper'd her, " Do not go ! 

You had better be quiet, and wait your hour ; 
It isn't too late even yet for snow !" 

But the little field-blossom was foolish and vain. 
And she said to herself, " What a belle I shall 
be !" 
So she sprang to the light, as she broke from her 
chain, 
And gayly she cried, " I am free ! I am free !" 

A shy little thing is the Daisy, you know ; 
And she was half frighten'd to death, when she 
found 



=© 



THE daisy's mistake. 211 

Not a blossom had even begun to blow ! 

How she wish'd herself back again under the 
ground ! 

The tear in her timid and sorrowful eye 

Might well put the zephyr and beam to the blush ; 
But the saucy light laugh'd, and said, " Pray don't 
cry !" 
And the gay zephyr sang to her, " Hush, sweet, 
hush!" 

They kiss'd her and petted her fondly at first ; 

But a storm arose, and the false light fled ; 
And the zephyr changed into angry breeze, 

That scolded her till she was almost dead ! 

The gem on her bosom was stain'd and dark, 
The snow of her robe had lost its light. 

And tears of sorrow had dimm'd the spark 
Of beauty and youth, that made her bright ! 

And so she lay with her fair head low. 
And mournfully sigh'd in her dying hour, 

" Ah ! had I courageously answer'd ' no !' 
I had now been safe in my native bower !" 



212 THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 



THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 



Once in the olden time there dwelt, 

Beside the sounding sea, 
A little maid — her garb was coarse, 
Her spirit pure and free. 

Her parents were an humble twain, 
And poor as poor could be ; 

Yet gayly sang the guileless child. 
Beside the sounding sea. 

The hut was bare, and scant the fare, 

And hard her little bed ; 
But she was rich ! A single gem 

Its beauty round her shed. 



THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 213 



She walk'd in light '.—'twas all her wealth— 
That pearl, whose lustrous glow 

Made her white forehead dazzling fair, 
And pure as sunlit snow. 

Her parents died ! With tears she cried, 

" God will my father be !" 
Then launch'd alone her shallop light, 

And bravely put to sea. 

The sail she set was virgin-white, 

As inmost lily leaf, 
And angels whisper'd her from Heaven, 

To loose it or to reef. 

And ever on the dancing prow 

One glorious brilliant burn'd, 
By whose clear ray she read her way. 

And every danger learn'd : 

For she had hung her treasure there. 

Her heaven-illumined pearl ! 
And so she steer'd her lonely bark. 

That fair and guileless girl ! 



214 THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 

The wind was fresh, the sails were free, 
High dash'd the diamond spray, 

And merrily leaping o'er the sea, 
The light skiff left the bay ! 

But soon false, evil spirits came, 
And strove, with costly lure, 

To bribe her maiden heart to shame, 
And win her jewel pure. 

They swarm'd around the fragile boat, 
They brought her diamonds rare. 

To glisten on her graceful throat, 
And bind her flowing hair ! 

They brought her gold from Afric-land, 
And from the sea-king's throne 

They pilfer'd gems, to grace her hand 
And clasp her virgin zone. 

But still she shook the silken curl 
Back from her beaming eyes, 

And cried — " I bear my spotless pearl 
Home, home to yonder skies ! 



n-- 



<3) 

THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 215 



" Now shame ye not your ocean gems 

And Eastern gold to show 1 
Behold ! how mine outburns them all ! 

God's smile is in its glow !" 

Fair blows the wind, the sail swells free, 

High shoots the diamond spray, 
And merrily o'er the murmuring sea 

The light boat leaps away ! 

They swarm'd around the fragile bark, 

They strove with costlier lure 
To bribe her maiden heart to shame, 

And win her jewel pure. 

" We bring thee rank — we bring thee power — 

We bring thee pleasures free — 
No empress, in her silk-hung bower, 

May queen her realm like thee ! 

" Now yield us up the one white pearl ! 

'Tis but a star, whose ray 
Will fail thee, rash, devoted girl, 

When tempests cloud thy way." 



=© 



216 THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 

But Still she smiled a loftier smile, 
And raised her frank, bright eyes, 

And cried — " I bear my vestal star 
Home, home to yonder skies !" 

The wind is fresh — the sail swells free — 
High shoots the diamond spray ! 

And merrily o'er the moaning sea 
The light boat leaps away ! 

Suddenly, stillness broods around, 

A stillness as of death, 
Above, below — no motion, sound ! 

Hardly a struggling breath ! 

Then wild and fierce the tempest came, 
The dark wind-demons clash'd 

Their weapons swift — the air was flame ! 
The waves in madness dash'd ! 

They swarm'd around the tossing boat — 
" Wilt yield thy jewel now ? 

Look ! look ! already drenched in spray. 
It trembles at the prow. 



THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 217 

" Be ours the gem ! and safely launch'd 

Upon a summer sea, 
Where never cloud may frown in heaven, 

Thy pinnace light shall be !" 

But still she smiled a fearless smile, 

And raised her trusting eyes, 
And cried — " I bear my talisman 

Home, home to yonder skies !" 

And safe through all that blinding storm 

The true bark floated on, 
And soft its pearl-illumined prow 

Through all the tumult shone ! 

An angel, guided through the clouds 

By that most precious light, 
Fl^w down the fairy helm to take, 

And steer the boat aright. 

Then died the storm upon the sea ! 

High dash'd the diamond spray, 
And merrily leaping light and free, 

The shallop sail'd away. 



218 THE LIFE-VOYAGE. 

And meekly, when at eve her bark 

Its destined port had found, 
She moor'd it by the mellow spark 

Her jewel shed around ! 

Wouldst know the name the maiden wore ? 

'Twas Innocence — like thine ! 
Wouldst know the pearl she nobly bore ? 

'Twas Truth — a gem divine ! 

Thou hast the jewel — keep it bright, 

Undimm'd by mortal fear. 
And bathe each stain upon its light 

With Grief's repentant tear ! 

Still shrink from falsehood's fairest guise, 

By flattery unbeguiled ! 
Still let thy heart speak from thine eyes, 

My pure and simple child ! 



THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE. 219 



THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE. 

" My child ! thou droopest like a flower 
That trembles 'neath the summer shower, 
And day by day, and hour by hour, 

More faint thy meek replying 
To tender questionings of mine ; 
A dreamy sorrow, half divine, 
FiJls those dark eyes, that strangely shine ; 

My child, my child ! thou'rt dying !" 

" Sweet mother — no : but by my side, 

Where'er I go," the child replied, 

" Through all this glorious summer-tide. 

Is one you cannot see — 
A little child with sunny wings. 
And eyes like Heaven ; — of holy things, 
With earnest voice, it talks and sings — 

And softly plays with me ! 



(b 



220 THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE. 

" ' Let US go home !' it warbles low ; 
And when I say — ' I dare not so ! 
My home is here,' it whispers — ' No ! 

Fair child ! thy home is mine !' 
And then, of some far lovelier land 
It fondly tells, where many a band 
Of blissful children, hand in hand, 

With sportive fondness twine. 

" It says they know not how to sigh, 
For nothing there can droop and die ; 
But bloom immortal glads the eye, 

And music wondrous sweet 
Doth ebb and flow, without alloy, 
From lyres of light, while Love and Joy 
Time to the tune, their blest employ, 

With weariless winged feet ! 

" A purer prayer it teaches me 
Than that I idly learn'd of thee ; 
It softens all my thoughtless glee. 

It makes me true and kind. 
My angel-playmate ! most I fear, 
'Twill wave its wings and leave me here ! 
' Thou'lt miss me in that holier sphere ! 

Oh ! leave me not behind !' 



@ 



THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE. 221 



" It says this is not life, but death, 
A daily waste of mortal breath, 
And still its sweet voice summoneth 

Me to that other land ; 
But even while it whispers so, 
The flowers around more brightly glow, 
And yet— and yet, I pine to go, 

And join that joyous band ! 

" My mother ! I'll come often back ; 
I'll not forget the homeward track, 
But oft when Pain and Sorrow rack 

Thy frame, I'll hover o'er thee ; 
I'll sing thee every soothing lay 
I learn in heaven ;— I'll lead the way 
For thee to God ;— my wings shall play 

In dreams of light before thee ! 

" Oh ! mother ! even now I hear 
Melodious murmurs in my ear ; 
The child— the angel-child is near ! 

I see its light wings glow ! 
I see its pure and pleading smile ! 
It moves beside me all the while. 
Its eyes my yearning soul beguile. 

Sweet mother ! let me go ! 



222 THE CHILD AND ITS ANGEL-PLAYMATE. 

" Hark to their plaintive spirit-strain ! 
' Let us go home !' again — again 
It rises soft — that sad refrain ! 

My playmate ! stay for me ! 
It clasps my hand ! It warbles low — 
' Let us go home !' I go — I go ! 
My pinions play — with heavenly glow — 

My mother — I am free !" 

The fair child lay upon her breast, 

As if in its accustom'd rest, 

A slumbering dove within its nest. 

But well the mother knew 
That never more that pure blue eye 
To hers would speak the soul's reply ; 
" She is not dead — she could not die I 

My child in heaven ! adieu !" 



Q-- 



A SONG. 



223 



A SONG. 

Yes ! " lower to the level" 

Of those who laud thee now ! 
Go ! join the joyous revel, 

And pledge the heartless vow ! 
Go ! dim the soul-born beauty 
That lights that lofty brow ! 
Fill, fill the bowl ! let burning wine 
Drown, in thy soul, Love's dream divine ! 

Yet when the laugh is lightest, 
When wildest goes the jest, 
When gleams the goblet brightest, 
And proudest heaves thy breast, 
And thou art madly pledging 
Each gay and jovial guest, — 
A ghost shall glide amid the flowers— 
The shade of Love's departed hours ! 



Q- 



224 A SONG. 

And thou shalt shrink in sadness 

From all the splendor there, 
And curse the revel's gladness, 
And hate the banquet's glare. 
And pine, 'mid Passion's madness. 
For true Love's purer air. 
And feel thou'dst give their wildest glee 
For one unsullied sigh from me ! 

Yet deem not this my prayer, love, 

Ah ! no ! if I could keep 
Thy alter'd heart from care, love. 

And charm its griefs to sleep. 
Mine only should despair, love, 
I — I alone would weep ! 
I — I alone would mourn the flowers 
That fade in Love's deserted bowers ! 



A mother's prayer in illness. 225 



A MOTHER'S PRAYER IN ILLNESS. 

Yes ! take them first, my Father ! Let my doves 
Fold their white wings in Heaven, safe on thy breast, 
Ere I am call'd away ! I dare not leave 
Their young hearts here, their innocent, thoughtless 

hearts I 
Ah ! how the shadowy train of future ills 
Comes sweeping down life's vista as I gaze ! 

My May ! my careless, ardent-temper'd May ! 
My frank and frolic child ! in whose blue eyes 
Wild joy and passionate wo alternate rise ; 
Whose cheek, the morning in her soul illumes ; 
Whose little, loving heart, a word, a glance. 
Can sway to grief or glee ; who leaves her play, 
And puts up her sweet mouth and dimpled arms, 
Each moment for a kiss, and softly asks. 
With her clear, flute-like voice, " Do you love me V' 
Ah ! let me stay ! ah ! let me still be by. 



To answer her and meet her warm caress ! 

For I away, how oft in this rough world, 

That earnest question will be ask'd in vain ! 

How oft that eager, passionate, petted heart, 

Will shrink abash'd and chill'd, to learn at length 

The hateful, withering lesson of distrust ! 

Ah ! let her nestle still upon this breast, 

In which each shade, that dims her darling face, 

Is felt and answer'd, as the lake reflects 

The clouds that cross yon smiling heaven ! and thou — 

My modest Ellen ! tender, thoughtful, true ; 

Thy soul attuned to all sweet harmonies ; 

My pure, proud, noble Ellen ! with thy gifts 

Of genius, grace, and loveliness, half hidden 

'Neath the soft veil of innate modesty. 

How will the world's wild discord reach thy heart 

To startle and appal ! thy generous scorn 

Of all things base and mean — thy quick, keen taste* 

Dainty and delicate — thy instinctive feai 

Of those unworthy of a soul so pure, 

Thy rare, unchildlike dignity of mien. 

All — they will all bring pain to thee, my child ! 

And oh ! if even their grace and goodness meet 

Cold looks and careless greetings, how will all 

The latent evil yet undisciplined 



TO . 227 

In their young, timid souls, forgiveness find 1 
Forgiveness, and forbearance, and soft chidings, 
Which I — their mother — learn'd of Love to give ! 
Ah ! let me stay ! — albeit my heart is weary, 
Weary and v^^orn, tired of its own sad beat. 
That finds no echo in this busy world 
Which cannot pause to answer — tired alike 
Of joy and sorrow — of the day and night ! 
Ah ! take them first, my Father ! and then me ; 
And for their sakes — for their sweet sakes, my 

Father ! 
Let me find rest beside them, at thy feet ! 



TO 



Let your summer friends go by 
With the summer weather ! 

Hearts there are that will not fly, 
Tho' the storm should gather. 



=o 



228 TO . 

Summer love to fortune clings, 
From the wreck it saileth, 

Like the bee, that spreads its wings 
When the honey faileth. 

Rich the soil where weeds appear ; — 
Let their false bloom perish ! 

Flowers there are, more rare and dear, 
That you still may cherish. 

Flowers of feeling, pure and warm, 
Hearts that cannot wither, 

These for thee shall bide the storm, 
As the sunny weather. 



^ 



AN ALLEGORY. 229 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE SPIRITUAL OVER THE 
SENSUAL. 

AN ALLEGORY. 

Near a being on the verge of manhood, 

In a waking vision, I behold 
Two fair figures,— one is lowly kneeling, 

At his feet, with loosen'd locks of gold, 
Down her white, half-veiled bosom, stealing, 

O'er her warm cheek, in soft tresses, roll'd, 
Link'd with many a burning gem, revealing 

Radiant colors through each silken fold. 

One soft, dimpled hand uplifts a chalice, 
Richly chased, and starr'd with rubies rare, 

While the other points towards a palace, 
Rising like a dream upon the air ! 

so 



230 AN ALLEGORY. 



Wild blue eyes, where passion blends with malice, 
Red, ripe lips, — Temptation triumphs there ! 

Or if thence the tried heart proudly rallies, 
In h.er form., voluptuously fair, 

Grace, so tenderly alluring, dallies, 
With her captive, that he loves the snare. 

Loose her gorgeous robe, her feet are bare ! — 

Thus the charmer sings, with wooing air, — 

Taste the goblet ! beauteous mortal ! 

Quickly taste, and fly with me ! 
Yonder gleams the golden portal 

Of a mansion made for thee. 
There will Pleasure's downy pillow 

Woo thee to luxurious rest ; 
There will Trouble's stormy billow 

Never fret thy charmed breast ! 
Beauty there shall bless the hours. 

Flitting by on balmy wing ; 
Joy shall bind thy brow with flowers ; 

Hope of new delights shall sing. 
Drain the goblet ! beauteous mortal ! 

Quickly drain ! and fly with me ! 
Yonder gleams the radiant portal 

Of the mansion wrought for thee ! 



AN ALLEGORY. 231 



From his trance of rapture, wildly waking, 

Lo ! the lost, infatuated boy, 
Flush'd with hope, the fatal chalice taking, 

Bends to quaff, — his ruin, in his joy ! 
Hark ! those tones, melodiously breaking 

O'er his soul, the sinful spell destroy ! 

Turning now, he sees a veiled vision, 
That has stood beside him all the while ; 

Beauty dawning, with a light elysian. 

Through the snowy gauze, as morning's smile 

Glows and glistens 'neath her wreathed mist, 

All the lovelier for that shade, I wist. 

Veil'd from head to foot, — her fair arms folding 
With a sweet composure on her breast. 

And a cross of pearl, serenely holding 

In her hand, with tender reverence press'd : 

One soft-gleaming star, amid the braiding 
Of her raven hair, her brow illumes ; 

Beautiful, exceedingly, the shading 

Of the rose, that on her pure cheek blooms ! 

Like the music-fall of water playing. 
Freshly in the burning summer-tide, 



232 AN ALLEGORY. 



With delicious melody, allaying 

All his feverish ecstasy and pride — 

Thrilling, low, unutterably sweet, 

Came her pure, soft tones, with angel pleading. 
While his heart to each clear cadence beat. 

Quick, in glad reply, all else unheeding. 

Boy, refrain ! the poison, breathing 
From the goblet, clouds thy soul ! 

Lo ! the golden serpent, wreathing 
Round the brim with glittering roll. 

Emblem of the death within, 

Know'st thou not it tempts to sin ] 

Boy, beware ! / may not offer 

Joy unearn'd by toil of thine ; 
Wealth, with lock'd and laden coffer, 

Luxury's pillow are not mine. 
But if thou, with trust confiding, 

High and fervent walk with me, 
Holiest comfort — peace abiding. 

Thine thro' trials dark, shall be ! 
Like the mystic steps in air. 

That th' Egyptian pupil trod, 



AN ALLEGORY. 23f3 



Fast as one wish fades, a higher 
Shall but lead thee nearer God ! 

Boy, be mine ! beneath our feet 

Desert wastes shall bloom with flowers. 

Sorrow's self shall seem most sweet, 

While Hope's rainbow lights her showers. 

Troops of angels, only known 

By their choral music-tide, 
(Ebb and flow) with softest tone, 

Shall beside thee viewless glide ! 

Every warbler of the wild-wood 
On its voice shall waft thy soul, 

Back thro' all the dreams of childhood, 
To the Heaven-home whence it stole. 

From each blossom Spring shall bring thee 
Some sweet lesson thou'lt command, 

Even the winding shell shall sing thee 
Echoes from the spirit-land ! 

Glory waits thee, glad immortal ! 
Take thy cross and go with me ! 

20* 



234 purity's pearl. 

Stars shall light the viewless portal 
Of the mansion made for thee ! 

Softly, with that last word, died away 

Voice and vision, from my dreaming sense ; 
But the youth rose, ere she closed the lay, 
And with eyes illumed by thought intense, 
Placed his hand in hers, that she should lead him 
thence. 



PURITY'S PEARL ; 

OR, THE HISTORY OF A TEAR. 

A MAIDEN, one summer's day, over Life's sea. 

In a pleasure-boat swiftly sailing, 

« 

Gazed back on the bowers of her childhood free. 
That were dim in the distance failing. 

She had clasp'd her zone with a brilliant stone. 
In tint like the plume of a Lory, 

Through its heart the blush of the daw^n had shone. 
And left it in all its glory. 



Of - 

purity's pearl. 235 



" False, false the talisman !" cries the girl, 

" From my bosom the gem I sever ! 
Oh ! give me back purity's snow-white pearl, 

And away with Love's Ruby for ever !" 
A tear, as she spoke, dimm'd her eye's blue fire, 

And fell in the foaming water, 
And hark ! at the moment, an angel-lyre 

Sounds the name of earth's sorrowing daughter : — ' 
'Tis the spirit of mercy floats from Heaven, 

Like light thro' the waves descending, 
And the penitent feels her fault forgiven, 

While smiles with her tears are blending. 
And long ere that frail bark reach'd the shore, 

Fair Mercy, her pledge redeeming. 
Stole up thro' the moonlit sea once more, 

With a pearl in her soft hand beaming. 
" I bring thee back Purity's gem of Snow ! 

'Tis thy tear of remorse and devotion, 
Transform'd to a pearl, in the wondrous flow 

Of Time's mysterious ocean." 
And the maiden has bound her zone again, 

With the treasure she prized so truly, 
And safe is her bark on the fathomless main, 

For her talisman keeps it holy ! 



=a 



236 TO 



TO , 

You are not what you used to be, 
When we were merry girls ; 

Your hair, — that floated then so free, 
In wild aerial curls. 

Or drooping-, from your forehead meek, 

In beautiful repose, — 
•Lay light and soft upon your cheek — 

A shadow on the rose ! — 

Is parted, with Madonna grace, 

Above a sadden'd brow, 
And shades a calm and thoughtful face, 

That wears no rose-bloom now ! 

You are not what you used to be ; 

Your girlhood's lightsome mood. 
Your springing step and tone of glee, 

Are soften'd and subdued. 



TO 



237 



You are not what you used to be ; 

But oh ! how much more worth, 
Than that light thing of frolic free, 

The wildest girl on earth ! 

Forever — as the joyous play 
Of bloom and light has faded, 

And tint by tint, and ray by ray. 
By care has been o'ershaded, — 

You have been gathering holier wealth 
Within — a store of treasures ! 

Flowers, fairer than the Rose of Health, 
And rays, more rich than Pleasure's ! 

And while the worthless splendor stole. 

Unheeded, from those eyes, 
A lamp was lighted in your soul — 

A star that never dies ! 

You are not what you used to be ; 

But you are less of earth, 
And richer, in your want of glee. 

Than others, in their mirth ! 



& 



238 LINES, ETC. 



LINES FROM A SCHOOL-GIRL TO A NEW FRIEND. 

Will you let me love you, Fanny ? 

There are very few 
In my soul's still temple cherish'd — 

May it cherish you 1 
Many make a fleeting visit. 

Wearying ere long — 
Far too wild and dreamy is it, 

For the worldly throng. 

But if you will come and rest 

In its dim recesses, 
It will give its stranger-guest 

Welcome and caresses. 
Gentle is the group you'll meet ; 

Pray do not refuse them ; 
They will always love you, sweet ; 

Let me introduce them ! 



LINES, ETC. 239 

You will see their faces only — 

Angels are drawn so ; 
And the heart makes angels ever 

Of its friends, you know. 
One with eyes like starlit clouds, 

Beautiful as truth. 
In whose face her rich soul smiles 

With undying youth. 

Then with brown and braided hair, 

Head of classic grace. 
Brow serene, and tranquil eyes, 

Comes a seraph face. 
You can see that she has sorrowed, 

From the world apart : 
Pure and lovely as her forehead, 

So the maiden's heart. 

Next with glance upraised, inspired. 

Music in her eyes, 
Soft in grief — in passion fired — 

See Julie arise ! 
On her cheek unearthly bloom ; 

Round her brow so fair, 



in — — o 

240 LINES, ETC. 

Glossy as a raven's plume, 
Sweeps her wealth of hair. 

Next appears my pride and idol, 

One, within whose soul 
Love and Truth have met in bridal, 

Free from earth's control. 
Guileless, trusting- as a child, 

Playful, dauntless, daring, 
Full of romance, high and wild, 

Ne'er in wo despairing ! 

Far apart from all and hidden — 

Frowning on them too. 
There is one, who came unbidden, 

That is — you know who ! 
Now you'll let me love you, Fanny ! 

Since you see how few 
In my heart's far depths are treasured, 

Let it treasure you ! 



HEAVEN IS OVER ALL. 



241 



HEAVEN IS OVER ALL. 

In weary paths, my precious boy, 
Your faltering feet must fall ; 

But bear in mind, where'er you go, 
That Heaven is over all ! 

You're tripping thro' a garden now, 
Where childhood loves to play, 

And kind hands pull the flowers for you, 
And throw the thorns away ; 

And softly falls the tender light — 
The breeze — 'tis joy to breathe it ! 

And if, perchance, a shower descends, 
New blossoms wake beneath it ; 



But by and by you'll leave your bower, 
And " go your ways" alone, 

With but a chance companion, love. 
Across your pathway thrown ; 



21 



=^ 



242 HEAVEN IS OVER ALL. 

And sometimes in the desert bare, 
Grief's bitter tears must fall ; 

But bear in mind, my boy, e'en there. 
That Heaven is over all ! 

And sometimes over flinty rocks 
Your tender feet must stray ; 

And sometimes in a tangled wood 
You'll almost lose your way ; 

And oft you'll sigh for Childhood's home, 
When gloomy scenes appal, — 

Oh ! bear in mind, where'er you roam, 
That Heaven is over all ! 

Be sure a sunbeam, thro' that wood, 
Will light you on your way ; 

Be sure, within that solitude, 
Some living fount will play. 

And tho' the flinty rock should fret 

Full long your weary feet. 
There's moss upon its bosom yet, 

Will make a pillow sweet : 



--<Q 



HEAVEN IS OVER ALL. 243 

And now and then a balmy air 

Will float with soft perfume, 
And lovely blossoms, here and there, 

Will bless you with their bloom : 

But if the clouds should hide the sky, 

And blinding rain should fall, 
Remember, God is always nigh, 

And Heaven is over all ! 

Now — now, while yet in Childhood's bower. 

With that wild way in view. 
Oh ! put your little hand in His, 

And He will lead you through ! 

For if, with pure and patient heart. 

With firm resolve and high. 
You tread the path appointed, love, 

And pass Temptation by, 

A fairer home than Childhood's home, 

A fonder love than ours. 
Await you at your journey's end. 

In Heaven's own balmy bowers. 



244 THE MORNING WALK. 

Where'er you go — in weal or wo, 
Whatever fate befall, 

In sunny glade, in forest shade, 
A Heaven is over all ! 



THE MORNING WALK, OR THE STOLEN BLUSH. 
▲ lover's lay. 

Never tell me that cheek is not painted, false maid ! 

'Tis a fib, tho' your pretty lip pouts while I say it ; 
And if the cheat were not already betray'd, 

Those exquisite blushes themselves would betray it. 

But listen ! this morning you rose ere the dawn, 
To keep an appointment perhaps — with Apollo 1 

And finding a fairy foot-print on the lawn, 

Which I could not mistake, I determined to fol- 
low. 



THE MORNING WALK. 245 



To the hill-side I track'd it, and tripping above me, 
Her sun-ringlets flying and jeweli'd with dew, 

A maiden I saw ! — now the truth, if you love me — 
But why should I question — I'm sure it was you ! 

And you cannot deny you were met in ascending, — 

I meanwhile pursuing my truant by stealth, — 
By a blooming young seraph, who turn'd, and attend- 
ing 
Your steps, said her name was " the Spirit of 
Health." 

Meantime, thro' the mist of transparent vermilion 
That suddenly flooded the brow of the hill. 

All fretted with gold, rose Aurora's pavilion, 
Illumining meadow, and mountain, and rill. 

And Health, floating up through the luminous air, 
Dipp'd her fingers of snow in those clouds glow- 
ing bright ; 

Then turn'd and dash'd down, o'er her votary fair, 
A handful of rose-beams that bathed her in light. 

Even yet they're at play here and there in your form, 
Thro' your fingers they steal to the white taper tips, 



246 THE HALF-BLOWN ROSE. 

Now rush to that cheek its soft dimples to warm, 
Now deepen the crimson that lives in your lips. 

Will you tell me again, with that scorn-lighted eye, 
That you do not use- paint — while such tinting is 
there ? 
While the glow still affirms what the glance would 
deny 1 
No ! in future disclaim the sweet theft if you dare ! 



THE HALF-BLOWN ROSE. 

SXTGGESTKD BY A PORTRAIT. 

'Tis just the flower she ought to wear, — 
The simple flower the painter chose ; 

And are they not a charming pair — 
The modest girl — the half-blown rose 1 



-@ 



THE HALF-BLOWN ROSE. 247 



The glowing bud has stolen up 

With tender smile and blushing grace, 

And o'er its mossy clasping cup 
In bashful pride reveals its face. 

The maiden too, with timid feet, 

Has sprung from childhood's verdant bower, 
And lightly left its limit sweet. 

For woman's lot of shine and shower. 

See ! from its veil of silken hair, 

That bathes her cheek in clusters bright. 

Her sweet face, like a blossom fair. 
Reveals its wealth of bloom and light. 

How softly blends with childhood's smile 
That maiden-mien of pure repose ! 

Oh ! seems she not herself the while — 
A breathing flower — a half-blown rose 1 



248 THE HOUR BEFORE THE DUEL. 



THE HOUR BEFORE THE DUEL. 

Too late — too late — ye steal before me, 
Fond thoughts of home, of love and joy ! 

The wings of fate close darkening o'er me — 
Oh God I my wife ! my boy ! 

My own sweet wife ! I see thy face — 
Thy pure, young face upraised to mine, 

Thy glossy ringlets' waving grace, 
Thy blush, thy smile divine ! 

Thy pleading eyes, that droop'd like flowers 
Beneath a cloud, when I was cold — 

Oh ! to win back the wasted hours. 
My brief life's lavish'd gold ! 

My child ! my heart's own hope and pride, 
My dark-eyed, blooming, glorious boy ! 

Thou comest — Heaven ! in mercy hide 
That gaze of thoughtless joy ! 



THE HOUR BEFORE THE DUEL. 249 

Yes, Honor ! 'gainst thine idle name, 
A bubble that a breath may break. 

To 'scape the knave's or fool's false blame, 
Their happiness I stake. 

I yield to thee my hope, my love, 
Her life that yet in joy has smiled, 

My peace on earth — my bliss above — 
Oh God ! my wife and child ! 

I'll dream no more ! I'll nerve my soul — 
Hurrah ! the wild — the magic wine ! 

Fill up — fill high — the glorious bowl ! 
Drown care in draughts divine ! 

The past — the future ! hence, away ! 

Fears, dreams, and doubts — my spirit's strife — 
I dare not think, or feel, or pray — 

Oh God ! my boy — my wife ! 



6 



250 SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME DEARLY. 



SHE SAYS SHE LOVES ME DEARLY. 



She says her heart is in her kiss — 
She says she loves me dearly ; 

Why meet I not her tenderness 
As fondly, as sincerely 1 

Ah ! 07ice I trusted all I met, 

With warm and artless truth ; 
And once my words were from my soul, 

But that was in my youth. 

And trust betray'd, and vows forgot, 
And wrong return'd for kindness, 

Have chill'd my heart, and changed my lot. 
And cured my blissful blindness. 



THE HERO S GRAVE. 



No longer tender, guileless, meek, 

Confiding as the dove, 
Too oft I think before I speak, 

And doubt before I love ! 



THE HERO'S GRAVE. 



A GROUP of boys in playful strife — 
A soldier old and faded, — 

The fresh and glowing morn of life, — 
The eve serenely shaded. — 



251 



" Ah ! play not there, my children ! 

I pray you play not there !" 
He spoke with tears, — that weary one, — 

The man with silver hair. 

" And why T" the thoughtless children said, — 
" The grass is fresher here, 



^ 



^ - — 

252 THE hero's grave. 

We love upon the mound to tread, 
And what have we to fear ?" 

" Nay, come away !" he raised his voice, 
Wild flash'd his faded eyes, 

" Ye sport upon a hallow'd grave, 
For there a hero lies .'" 



THE £ND. 



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